


Dawning Affliction

by Shiguresan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, BDSM, Complete, Confused BDSM, Drama, Dubious Consent, Explicit Language, First Time, Forced Marriage, Forced Orgasm, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male Slash, Mpreg, Non-Consensual, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Romance, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Violence, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-06
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-01-09 07:24:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 29
Words: 339,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1143163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shiguresan/pseuds/Shiguresan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Forced into a marriage with an abusive Draco Malfoy, Harry struggles to survive his new lot in life. But as part of the Malfoy family, he is now privy to their darkest an most dreaded secrets. Mpreg and purposefully confused BDSM.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Licentious Proposals

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
> 
> This story is set after the fall of Voldemort, compliant with all books but not the epilogue of Deathly Hallows. And (DH SPOILER) Snape is still alive – Harry saved him after Nagini’s bite, the how is not really important, just don’t be confused that he is still there lol.  
> Please note that the BDSM is purposefully confused for the benefit of the plot.

Co-written with my friend [Yuki-Kiba-Chan](http://yuki-kiba-chan.deviantart.com). She is writing Draco and I am writing Harry, this remains even when the switch is more seamless than others.

  
 **I already have this story completed on the laptop so I will be uploading a few chapters every 3 days or so to this site until it's all here, so you can look forward to frequent updates :)**

* * *

 

[One]  
 **Licentious Proposals**  
  
  
  
Sunlight glared patronisingly in through the windows of the Headmaster’s office where he sat – no where he had been _guided_ into a chair by the Headmaster, Severus Snape (however grudgingly) to stop him from tumbling to the floor when his knees began to quiver menacingly. The ashes of the dead fire in the cold hearth held Harry Potter’s gaze as he felt his body collapse into his seat, the Headmaster’s hand lingering almost reassuringly on his shoulder before shuddering away as if the supportive gesture had never been.  
  
An impatient sigh came from the imposing man that stood at a distance to his left – the only other occupant of the room that was not the Potion’s Master. Harry winced at the noise of disdain the other man let through his teeth. His chest had begun to tighten maddeningly at the words that had he had just heard and it hadn’t seemed to stop. His heart thudded madly, the blood rushing to his head until he felt quite giddy – even when sitting. His ribs _hurt_ with the pressure and he felt a trickle of bile slither up his throat when he tried to force out words.  
  
Pity, it was heavy in the eyes of Severus Snape when they flicked to him between glares at the platinum Blond across the room. It was far worse than the loathing and superiority that Lucius Malfoy was offering.  
  
“I…” Harry choked on his words. He hadn’t felt this incapable of words since the war had plummeted to an end with Voldemort’s last, vile breath. “I can’t possibly be made to do this,” He ground out, no real force or belief behind the insistence. He brought his gaze up from the dead fire to Snape beside him, disgusted with how _imploring_ he must look. But this was the only man that could help him if it were possible.  
  
They had been at an odd truce since the incident in the forest, he had seen Snape’s memories, he had _saved_ him – and of course, since then, neither of them had breathed a word about any of it. (In fact when he had been summoned here for this _meeting_ he had assumed it was to finally discuss it – he had not been prepared to face Lucius Malfoy and his…indecent proposals). They had carried on as normal, betrayed only by moments such as this, where Snape was his last hope and the Potion’s Master grudgingly (though swiftly) leapt to his defence.  
  
“It can’t be…can’t be _legal_ much less moral!” He declared, his voice strengthening now that he saw the lack of hope, the lack of _everything_ but pity in those unfathomably dark eyes. “I…I killed Voldemort!!! I’m…I’m bloody _Harry Potter_! Surely there is something that you can find that’ll…that’ll–”  
“Exempt you?” Lucius Malfoy chimed from his stone-set position just across from him. The Blond gave a menacing, pitying chuckle. “Honestly, Mr Potter, hold _some_ dignity – some sense of _duty_ –”  
“Duty?!” Harry spat with a sneer, leaping to his feet as white-hot fury resuscitated his previously petrified limbs. He always had had a fiery temper…  
  
“Don’t talk to _me_ of duty!!! You bloody turncoat! You spent the better part of your life licking Voldemort’s ar–”  
“Potter, curb your tongue.” The cool, impassive voice swept over him and Harry whirled on his feet to glare at the man he was counting on to be his saviour. He kept his mouth firmly shut over the stream of insults he wished to unleash on Malfoy, but not over his accusations.  
  
“I’ve given everything I had to save you all and I won’t give any more,” he clenched his teeth at his fury, grinding them until his gums ached in protest. “I won’t do it. _Ever_. You can’t make me. You can’t _force_ me! Heck your prissy, good-for-nothing, _ponce_ of a son didn’t even have the balls to come and ask me himself!”  
“Some of us have a sense of _decorum,_ Mr Potter,” Lucius Malfoy leered, straightening painfully at the insults hurled at his only son. “It is tradition for the parent or guardian to ask after your hand – if you had not been brought up in the mud with _muggles_ perhaps you’d _understand_ …”  
  
Harry threw the older man his darkest glare, his hands curling into fists – fists that wanted nothing more than to pound into the man’s skull until it cracked under the pressure. He hated this man, even more than his cowardly son who had sent his father here to fetch him like an unworthy dog that had been left outside. “Way I see it is you’re not asking,” Harry growled. “You’re _telling_ me. You’re telling me I have to marry your vile son but I won’t! You think I don’t know what you’re like – the lot of you? You’d have me whipped and then begging at his feet for forgiveness for a crime I didn’t commit and I _won’t_ do it.”  
  
“I am afraid, Mr Potter, you have no choice,” Snape sneered, alongside Lucius who was rather offended at the accusations that were being spat about his son. Even if they were true…  
   
“Ah Draco, you are here. What has kept you?” Lucius asked, caressing the head of his cane when his son entered the room. Draco looked blindly over at Potter, then back at his father and slid his hands into his pockets.  
  
“I was held up,” Draco informed them, careful not to reveal too much, evidently.  
“You needn’t have bothered,” Harry sneered, “Because I was just leaving.” He brushed past Draco without so much as _gracing_ him with a _look_. He was not a child anymore – their school days were long ago and he wasn’t going to be used for another’s purpose again. “You can lock me up in _Azkaban_ and I would never look twice at you,” Harry growled, reaching for the pot of floo powder at the hearth. No sooner had he reached it, however, the pot of powder in his hand grew white-hot.  
  
Harry screamed, his flesh sizzling revolting as he threw the pot away from him, the clay bursting open on the floor – the powder scattered across the carpet. Wincing from pain, Harry glared back at a smug looking Draco Malfoy. “That was bloody stupid,” he snarled, bringing his wand to heal his blistering hand before any treacherous, tears of pain could prick at his eyes.  
  
“There is, regrettably no way to escape this, Potter,” Snape explained slowly as he moved forwards to repair the pot, floating the spilled powder back into it one more. He leant up to place the pot back on the mantle above the fireplace – this, however, allowed his dark eyes to fall over Harry once he was done. “I have explained, have I not, that the Black fortune (which you have been using to support your living since your own family’s money dried up with your Hogwart’s expenditures) is intricately tied to this union?”  
Harry flinched in revulsion at the suggestion that Lucius had put across – no _ordered_ him to carry out with.  
“I don’t care,” Harry murmured darkly, staring at Snape, the only person (oddly enough) that he could stand to look at right now, though he felt both the Malfoy’s stares bore into his back like hot pokers through his flimsy flesh. “Take the money, take Grimmauld Place – I’d rather live on the _streets_ like a beggar than earn my way in Malfoy’s bed.”  
  
Snape raised his brows at his words, his gaze flicking to the two blond men behind Harry before venturing speech. “Admirable sentiments, Potter, however you misunderstand the full extent of what losing your rights to the Black family’s… _insurmountable_ fortune means. You are aware, of course, that that inheritance is rivalled only the Malfoy family’s in this country?”  
Harry shrugged. “I know they want it,” he stated simply, “Their greed knows no bounds. They want what they consider _‘rightfully theirs’_ since the Blacks are tied with their blood – they have been poking their noses in on me ever since the end of the war once they discovered Sirius had left it all to me.”  
  
Harry paused to offer a contemptuous glance over his shoulder at Draco Malfoy – who glared smugly back. “He probably only wants me because I’m the one person he can’t have…”  
“A Malfoy will have everything and _anything_ he wants in the end, Mr Potter,” Lucius Malfoy promised darkly, the threat that slithered through his words making Harry shudder.  
“It is not merely you who will suffer, who will lose everything if you fail to follow through on this…” Snape’s voice lingered in the air for a moment as he leant against the side of the desk, surveying Harry pensively, the way that unnerved the dark-haired saviour to no end.  
  
“You used the Black fortune to support those you hold dear,” Snape elaborated quietly, his voice a slow breath on the air – but it still made Harry stiffen with a small quiver of fear as he realised the truth in his words. “Weasley Wizard Wheezes has flourished _nationally_ thanks to your continued sponsorship and _partnership_. Mr Arthur Weasley, as I understand it is now in an independent business aided by you – and your friends Mr and Mrs Ronald Weasley, are of course living solely on the money they earn in your shop in Diagon Alley. Now it would pose a problem, I imagine, if your fortune and all of your assets acquired with it were to be wrenched from your hands?”  
  
Harry was frozen. His heart even seemed to slow and fade into non-existence. The Weasleys had been so good to him over the years – even after his adolescent break-up with Ginny. They were his partners in nearly everything he invested in (the only way they would accept his help without dubbing it as charity and refusing it). And Ron and Hermione had only just had little Hugo, they needed the money…  
  
 _If I refuse it will ruin them,_ Harry realised, the horror settling into the empty hollow of his chest as well as his now paled face. Somewhere behind him, he swore he _heard_ the younger Malfoy sneering with glee.  
  
“W-Why has this…why was I never made aware of this bef–?”  
“You inherited the full bulk of the fortune when you came of age at seventeen,” Snape continued, with a kind of irritating calm as if he were discussing potion ingredients. “But as Draco turned twenty-one a few days ago, a clause in his own inheritance was made apparent to Lucius Malfoy – the same as the clause that is in yours. The heir must marry into such a family as to _insure_ the bloodline’s assets. The Black and Lestrange families are the main connections to the Malfoys – and Draco is the Lestrange heir by default since they are in Azkaban for life with no children of their own…”  
  
Harry’s head spun with overload of information and he dropped into the chair Snape had pressed him into earlier. Rubbing his temples with his fingers, he allowed his thoughts to collect. “So there are no other choices because Malfoy is the default heir of most other families that the clause refers to…? And we will both lose everything if–”  
“Draco only maintained his claim to his _surmountable_ inheritance by Lucius stepping in – if you are both not united by the time _you_ turn twenty-one next month, you will _both_ lose it all.”  
  
 _Including the Weasleys,_ Harry thought with fear quivering in his gut like ice-water on a winter’s day  
  
“But…” His voice was all-but silent with the swelling defeat, “I’m not even a pureblood – you’re all obsessed with blood! You–”  
“Muggle blood dilutes with every generation,” Lucius Malfoy interjected, his voice stone cold. “And you are only half-blood, and the Wizarding world’s saviour on top of that…”  
“So it’s more than money… I’m your way back into society – social _good-standing_ , am I right?” He realised with a cool smirk, Lucius nodded slightly, but Draco merely intensified his sneer. “I…I need to think this over,” he murmured, reaching for the floo powder again.  
  
“Very well, but don't spend too long thinking about it,” Snape reminded him as Draco strolled ahead, this time, shoving him aside with no care whatsoever.  
“Call me when he has decided,” Draco grunted, halting as he heard Harry murmur a question under his breath.  
“Why are you going through with this?” Harry asked, his words almost lost in a haze, a veil of confusion behind which he had temporarily forgotten the words just spoken to him.  
“Because like _you_ , I don't want to lose _all_ I have,” The Blond spat sharply, before finally departing.  
  
* * *  
  
“Oh, Harry,” Hermione sighed, surveying him carefully across the table in the dining room of the modest house she shared with her husband (and Harry’s best friend) Ron Weasley. “I simply…I do not see a way out of it…” She scanned the copy of the ‘clause’ Snape had given him once more, her brow furrowing with concentration. Harry watched her quietly, silently resigned to his fate. It seemed he was doomed to forever remain a sacrifice for the people he loved – whether they intended it or not. _Serves you right,_ he thought with a sad smile. _Did you really think the world would let_ Harry Potter _just live his life in peace?_  
  
Ever since the end of the war nearly four years ago now, he had been plagued by the world he had struggled so hard to save. By the Prophet’s prodding and near-constant attack of rumours, by ridiculous members of the general public he had never met that seemed to think they had some kind of claim on his personal life.  
  
 _At least Malfoy is honest about using me for his own means,_ Harry thought with a bitter smile, brought back to reality by Hermione’s growl of frustration. She shoved the paper roughly away from her, meeting Harry’s gaze with sombre eyes. Eyes of defeat, he realised. There really was no way out…  
  
“I can't believe that after everything you have done for the wizarding world you're going to be forced into a marriage to that swine!” Hermoine gasped. “I mean, it's just preposterous, he’s a Malfoy for goodness sake, not to mention another man! How are you going to live with someone you spent your childhood avoiding?!"  
  
“I never avoided him,” Harry murmured, still in shock. “I just didn't want to waste my breath,” he corrected. Hermione sighed.  
“Well whatever the reason, it's just not fair!”  
Harry nodded with her, not really sure what to say about the entire situation. She was right, how was he going to live with someone like Malfoy, let a lone exchange vows?  
  
“How long are you going to have to stay married to him?” Hermione asked curiously, but then her eyes widened with horror. “Not forever…?”  
  
Harry shrugged. “The way Snape told it, it sounded like a ‘forever’ kind of deal. If we divorced or separated then the clause would come back into effect – we would both lose everything in any case.” He fingered his now stone-cold tea cup dejectedly, lowering his eyes to the dark pool of his untouched drink. “We have to do this by the end of this month – by the end of June to ensure that the papers and everything go through properly before I turn twenty-one at the end of July.”  
  
“But Harry he’ll… The _Malfoys_ – they’re purebloods, they are so proper with tradition that it’s _dangerous_! You will be thrown into their power with absolutely no way of escape – they could subject you to any–”  
“Any form of torment,” Harry finished robotically, “And I am sure that Malfoy will subject me to every imaginable torture he can. As sure as I am that I _have_ to do this…”  
  
“If you have to marry him, you will never have a chance of a real romance, of love,” She sighed, Harry's life had been full of so much tragedy and heartbreak that this was just unreal, the fact this was even happening to him, just didn't seem fair. Her best friend, he looked so broken from where Hermione sat, everything in his life was just so…mercilessly cruel. “You realise that when Ron finds out he won't allow it?” Hermione giggled lightly, trying to spark a light in the depths of oblivion. Harry’s resigned expression didn't even so much as flicker at her statement and she lost her momentary smile.  
  
“Oh, Harry…”  
  
“I know,” Harry said, again that sad smile he swore would never leave him caressing his lips. “That’s why you’re not going to tell him – tell _anyone_ until it’s already done.” Her eyes widened with horror, and so Harry cut her off before she could argue. “I need to do this, if I don’t then you – all of the Weasley family will be ruined. And you know what Lucius Malfoy is like; he’ll stop you all from working anywhere else just for spite. I won’t let you all suffer when such a simple thing from me can prevent it.”  
“But Harry, whatever _this_ is it isn’t simple!” Hermione insisted, nearing hysterics. She could not comprehend how Harry could be so calm, so complacent about the whole situation. _Has he even_ cried? _Has he done anything_? She wondered.  
  
“It’s simple,” Harry clarified for her, glancing briefly to the grandfather clock in the corner. _Malfoy said not to take too long,_ he thought distantly….  
  
“I have nothing to lose, nothing to sacrifice, Hermione, except all of you. I’ve never been in love so I’d wager I won’t miss something I never had.” He paused then to force a brave smile as he got to his feet, moving over to the fire. “The worst of it will be putting up with Malfoy for the rest of my life, but at least that might help me control my temper more.” A forced laugh punctuated his words, and Hermione blinked in astonished sadness back at him. With pain clutching his heart like spiteful talons, he was resolved not to cry, he could not fall prey to grief and for _that_ small mercy he was grateful. He leant in to kiss Hermione’s cheek before throwing the floo powder into the grate where he now stood.  
  
He had known for some years that the _Daily Prophet_ had been taken over by none other than Draco Malfoy, in fact he had suspected that that was the cause for not being able to escape their hounding ever since the fall of Voldemort. He had known but he had never been to visit the snob, why should he? He had never had reason to before. Not until now at any rate…  
  
The building was simple, clean and bright with the sun streaming in through the enchanted windows. Yes, very like a smaller, less grand a version of the Ministry. It hadn’t taken him long to locate the young Malfoy in his office. A few good stares followed him as he stalked through the open-planned working area for the Daily Prophet editors and writers, but he did not care – the arsehole would probably post some tasteless announcement as soon as he agreed anyway. His body was so tense that it _hurt_ , his hands were curled into fists and his eyes were set as he pounded carelessly on Draco Malfoy’s door, until the ferret bid him enter.  
  
He flinched with revulsion at the clear victory in those eyes as the Blond told him to close the door and take a seat. Harry did so, but only to give himself something to do so he wouldn’t have to look the bastard in the eyes as he spoke to him.  
  
Draco walked over to the large table that dominated most of the room, and took a seat at the top of it. He clenched his hands together and sighed as Harry stood before him. “You can sit down.." He informed as he rustled through some papers and notes, that had been left scattered where he sat and piled them neatly beside him. His gaze caught Harry's for brief moment, then it fell back down to the desk.  
  
“So have you made a decision?” He asked darkly, glaring from beneath his platinum blond strands (that had grown a fair bit in the past few years) and over at Harry.  
  
Harry settled into the only chair (directly in front of Malfoy) and wished that he could have shuffled it back so that they were not so close – such close proximity suggested an intimacy he had _no_ intention of ever sharing with this man. The Blond’s knees were within touching distance and he didn’t like that. He sat, ramrod straight in the chair, his hands resting casually on the arms as he returned Malfoy’s dark look with his own vacant stare.  
  
He did not flinch, barely _blinked_ – even when the Blond flicked his wand towards the glass wall separating his office from the one Harry had walked through, causing the blinds to slam down with a clash. The sound did not make his body shake, but the action of watching privacy fall over the suddenly _far_ too warm, cosy room made his insides churn with uneasiness.  
  
“We both don’t want this but its necessary – of course I have to accept, there is no other solution. I will, however, make some reasonable demands to ensure my reasons for complying are not forgotten.” Harry watched as his carefully chosen words registered in Malfoy’s head, a Blond brow rising in a signal to continue.  
  
“All my financial agreements and settlements on the Weasley family will continue – will be honoured with _exactly_ the same (if not higher) percentage of my fortune supporting them. Even if I die,” He could not keep the accusation from his voice then, “Grimmauld Place and Kreacher will not be abused, they will remain in my name alone and when he comes of age, Teddy Lupin will inherit _both_ – with no arguments or strings attached. Lastly, I suppose it’s reasonable for you to have… _lovers_ , since you won’t be activating your conjugal rights with me…”  
  
He cleared his throat shakily at the sound of that – the mere _thought_ of sex had never been a ground of confidence with him. What with his lack of experience in the area. “I suppose it’s reasonable but if you take them you’ll do so discreetly. I don’t need my name dragged through the dirt because my…my _husband_ can’t keep quiet… They won’t know we aren’t having sex, so I don’t want to be made to look the fool.”  
  
A dark, lustful shadow cast over those silver eyes as the once-slytherin’s voice lowered forebodingly. “Don't misunderstand Potter, while I agree that I will probably be off fucking others, we _too_ will be having an _'intimate'_ relationship,” He stated bluntly. His eyebrows shifted inwards and Harry's rose when the sudden shock of what exactly Draco had just implied hit him. Draco elaborated before Harry had a chance to reply.  
  
“And as you've probably got no idea of how men have sex - since you're a prissy little virgin, I suppose I'll have to teach you. I'm not marrying someone who I can't fuck when no one else is available,” He finished plainly. Harry's eyes were still overcome with shock and he seemed lost for speech, his mouth parted soundlessly in surprise of that bluntness.  
  
“That’s _my_ condition, but if you're too much of a wuss to deal with such a minor detail then go ahead and decline.”  
  
Harry realised he had pressed himself back into the chair, as far away from Malfoy as he could get, just as he felt a trickle of sweat slide ominously down the back of his neck. He hadn’t bargained for…  
  
“I-I can’t have sex with you!” Harry ground out. “I – I’m… I’m not interested in men and if I were you can guarantee I wouldn’t choose _you_ to experiment with!” He shook his head with disbelief. “I – we _can’t_! How would we even decide who…?” His words trailed off and he shook his head again, his fingers biting into the arms of the chair. “Why would you _want_ to! I know I’m the _Chosen One_ and that seems to make me Britain’s greatest catch for _whatever_ reason but I’m hardly at the peak of physical attractiveness!”  
  
“The fact is quite simple, when were married you will _belong_ to me, there's something intriguing about having sex with someone that no one else is allowed to touch. And while I agree that you are hardly at the _peak of physical attractiveness,_ I don't really care so long as you satisfy me and do your job.” He looked down and rested his forehead gently in his palm, carding his fingers back through his pale, golden locks.  
  
“So do you accept?”  
  
Harry’s eyes narrowed with pure, unyielding hatred. “My conditions will be set into our marriage contract as will yours – a marriage contract is an unbreakable vow, Draco Malfoy, if you break it you will die.” His gaze hardened to see if Malfoy would re-think this at the realisation of the inescapability of his conditions, but the Blond did not flinch. “If you’re going to insist on…on _having_ me then…” He winced in revulsion, struggling to maintain his confident composure. “You won’t be using my body at your convenience after fucking another. I…If I have to… If you’re going to take me I won’t be one of _many_.”  
  
He felt disgust roil in his stomach like vomit. Draco could have his whores if he wanted but if he took him as well as them… _That ranks me with his cheap sluts and I_ won’t _be branded a whore because he can’t keep it in his trousers…_  
  
“If you want me, I can’t stop you – but that will be it, there’ll be no one else.” His words held a confidence that sounded foreign on his tongue and felt wrong in his nervous, unsettled stomach. He was going to have to have sex with Draco Malfoy – _whenever_ he wanted! He paled visibly at the thought, hoping he could get out of here before he threw his guts up over the floor.  
  
“You seem to misunderstand my terms and by extension, my seriousness. This is a ridiculous request, to have me to yourself, _Potter_. Don't forget who is in control here,” Malfoy snarled, rising from his chair and leaning down to rest his hand on Harry's left cheek. His fingers danced down until they reached his chin and Harry sneered when they pushed his head backwards by it.  
  
“Do you really want the _Weasels_ to lose everything because of your selfishness? We either do it my way, or we don't do it at all.”  
  
He knew he was treading on thin lines with this. He couldn't afford for Harry to say no, because even though he hated to admit it, he would lose everything too – more so than Harry himself perhaps. But he wasn't going to just commit to only Harry for the rest of his life (even though that was the exact thing he requested from him) he wasn't going to let him triumph over anything. He wouldn't allow him even a small victory.  
  
Leaning in to Harry's ear, he breathed huskily against the curved shape and bit down on the top of it, digging his teeth into the delicate flesh, he pulled on it and heard Harry yelp against him in pain. Harry ground his teeth furiously, throwing his head to the side in his haste to escape Draco’s touch – the Blond was standing over his knees, they were _touching_ and he hated it.  
  
“You stand to lose your entire family’s legacy,” Harry reminded him stiffly, “You’re right – you’re in control, or you will be once we go through with this. I am the one being forced into _enslavement_ ; I am the one who will lose himself, Malfoy. If I have to give my body against my will it won’t be to a whore. It’s a small price to ask, and if you cannot even meet me on my few measly conditions in return for a lifetime of being your _lapdog_ then this won’t be done at all.”  
  
Again, his voice was stern, set in stone cool confidence that did not reach his nervously wide eyes and tense limbs. Draco’s sneer intensified as he considered his words and Harry struggled not to fly backwards in desperation to escape their close proximity. _Everything begins here,_ he thought, steadying himself. _This is going to decide if I can bear the rest of my life, I can’t let him get away without meeting me at least_ part _way…_  
  
Malfoys eyes narrowed in irritation. If Harry was to become his 'wife', there was just _no way_ he'd be getting what he wanted. If he gave into Harry's requirements now, that would be it, it was just like saying 'go ahead and whine until you get your way'. Something Draco certainly would _not_ accept.  
  
“Well then, I guess we will both lose everything, won't we?” Draco said sharply, whacking his hands down on the back of Harry's chair (one either side of Harry’s head) with a crash, and stood over him with menacing eyes so dangerously close to the _Chosen One’s_. He would not be refused.  
  
“Are you seriously going to act like some sort of prissy girl because I'd be fucking around? It's disgusting, shameful! You're a bloody man for heaven’s sake! And for what, your name? _That_ won't mean much when you lose everything, will it?”  
  
Harry set his jaw. Malfoy was definitely stupid and arrogant enough to risk it all over something so petty. Perhaps he would have argued if he had felt _anything_ for Malfoy, if he actually gave a damn about his name any longer after all the doubt he had suffered during Voldemort’s reign – perhaps even if he had the will to care any longer. Malfoy’s arms trembled with fury either side of his head and he merely tipped his head down, exhausted by it all.  
  
He was so tired of fighting; he just didn’t have the strength anymore.  
  
“No, nothing means much anymore,” he admitted quietly, before offering a defeated sigh. “Fuck who you will but you’ll use protection with _everyone_ you mess around with ‘behind my back’ and you’ll do it discreetly – that will be written into the contract along with my other conditions. An unbreakable vow, Malfoy.” He caught sight of that broad smirk he loathed so much and knew the irritating bastard agreed only because it meant Harry had given in completely in their negotiations, only because he could see Harry crumbling…  
  
“If that’s all…then I can accept your proposal.”  
  
“You and your _petty_ requests, Potter. If I make that sacrifice you realise it means I’ll be fucking you bareback to make up for the loss – if you even know what _bareback fucking_ is?” The Blond sneered, chuckling with a smug, dominating smirk as he brushed his hand over his hair with ease. Harry could request what he wanted, but there was no way Draco would let him off easily.  
  
Harry blinked for a moment at the request, wishing nothing more than for it to be over now – so he could go to sleep and enjoy the solitude of his own bed for as long as he could…  
  
He indeed, had no idea what _bareback_ was, but didn’t think it’d make much difference in any case. Malfoy would be the dominant partner, would _rule_ his body and soul and so would take whatever he wanted _wherever_ he wanted. It made little difference what the sordid torment was dubbed since Harry would have to suffer it all the same – _forever._  
  
Slowly, he rose to his feet, shaking his suddenly weary head. “Your Father made it clear that the event itself would be small – mostly for signing the ‘vows’ but that I would have to struggle through a _Malfoy celebration_ tradition of some sorts afterwards. I was given to understand that it’s similar to a _reception_ only…on a bigger scale?” He watched as Malfoy offered only a short nod in answer. Harry’s tongue skipped across his lip, across the cracks there – the beginnings of the shattering of his soul.  
  
“Well if that’s settled – just let me know when I’ll be signing myself over to you,” he stated, his eyes and voice hollow. “Don’t worry about leering over my ignorance of gay sex, we have the rest of our lives for you to tell me how inadequate and stupid I am.” His voice was heavy with bitterness and exhaustion and he could not find the will to hide it even. Draco Malfoy was loving it.  
  
The smile on the Blond’s face widened. Even though he wasn't overjoyed with Harry at their situation, teasing him and having him under his control for the rest of his days did appeal, something chronic to his filthily imagination.  
  
“You will be signing the contact with me on Monday, which means you have four days,” Malfoy stated coldly. Harry's eyes widened at the reality of his words, four days wasn't a very long time to enjoy his last lot of freedom before making such a 'vow' but he didn't have much choice.  
  
Harry could only nod, not trusting his words at that moment. Rising to his feet slowly, Harry took a few steps away from the desk in order to put more space between him and Malfoy. He brought his eyes up to the Blond’s smug face carefully and he struggled with how to word the only thing he thought he could fight for – that Malfoy might sway on – _maybe…_  
  
But Malfoy was moving towards him persistently, (probably realising Harry wanted personal space and wanting to violate all his wishes if he could) and Harry swallowed slightly. “There was…one more thing.” He began as steadily as before, not willing to wilt like a flower at the mere _prospect_ of his damned future. Malfoy planned on making his life hell, that was fine, because Harry wouldn’t make himself easy to break.  
  
“Your father suggested that at the contract signing I would be handing over my name – _for yours_.” He nearly _spat_ the last part, as if that was the worst part of this entire situation – and in a way, he supposed it was. He would already be Malfoy’s property – his chattel, giving up everything he had to the overbearing bastard his school-rival had become. His family name was important to him, it wasn’t flattering or even that elegant but he was the last one – ever, and though he wouldn’t be having any children to exactly _continue the line_ , he’d rather hoped it would die with him rather than be forced to surrender it to someone like Draco Malfoy…  
  
“Yes, Father did mention that to me, and at first I was rather disgusted that the likes of you would be dirtying the Malfoy name. It certainly did seem unappealing from a pureblood point of view however…” Draco stepped closer to Harry then, and the air between them intensified as his lips almost came into contact with Harry's ear once again when he continued in a whisper. “…calling you by my own name when I’m fucking you is rather endearing.” He knew Harry felt him smiling vilely against his earlobe and he laughed, drawing back to see Harry's outraged expression.  
  
“I – That’s–” Harry stammered uselessly in shock. No one _ever_ said such debauched things to him – maybe innocence had made him a prude, but he felt uncomfortable and repulsed by Malfoy’s lips breathing hotly in the shell of his ear and even more so at the way he felt his cheeks grow hot. He growled low under his breath, shoving Malfoy back roughly from him. “Is there nothing – nothing I can… Can’t you just add ‘ _Malfoy_ ’ onto the end of my name?” He protested, but the wicked smile at Draco’s lips told him his answer before the Blond even _spoke._  
  
“No,” He stated boldly, his silver eyes unmoved. Harry seemed to wither before him when he leant back a few spaces, hands hanging inside both pockets of his trousers. “And don't tell me the one who defeated the Dark Lord is going to get pathetically sentimental over such a minor factor, maybe you should rethink your priorities, Potter.” He paused and looked over at the window the blinds had been drawn over, before continuing. “All that power wasting inside your sanctimonious skin… Don't you think you're a waste of a human being sometimes?”  
  
“Don’t you think you’re a pathetic _prick_ sometimes?” Harry retaliated with his jaw still set, “Prancing around doing _exactly_ what Daddy wants you to do? Tell me have you so much as chosen a pair of _undies_ without his consent?” He watched Draco flinch and knew he had hit a nerve – but Draco had as well…  
  
This time, he leant in, closing the precious space between him and his… _fiancée_ (he winced at the word). “You think you’re going to conquer me with this, _Draco Malfoy_ , but if Voldemort couldn’t manage it what makes you think a poncy little fool who was too afraid to say his _name_ will be able to?” His voice was a low, dangerous hiss, betraying every slither of dislike he held for this arrogant little boy.  
  
Draco flew at Harry, his forearm shoving the man backwards into the wall, causing the mirror hanging there to wobble on it's hangings when Harry's head crashed full pelt into it. “I do think for myself you pathetic cunt.” His eyes tightened with fury and he forced his teeth back over that ear where he had bitten Harry before, biting down on it with all the might in his gums, Harry tried to pull away, but failed. The pain in his ear swelled furiously and he shuddered at the feel of saliva being spat into it.  
  
“Don't you _dare_ speak to me with that tone, you prissy virgin! If your parents were still alive they would probably vomit at they way you turned out. You're a disgrace!”  
  
Harry wretched at the feel of Draco’s spit in his ear and threw his elbow up hard into Draco’s chest, making the Blond wince and stumble back in surprise. Harry leapt to his feet, giving Malfoy another shove towards the desk. The Blond’s body collided hard with the edge, the papers and the desk lamp flying off carelessly. “ _Virgin_ is hardly an insult you idiot – I was a fool for thinking you’d matured beyond Hogwarts. And yes, they’d vomit – they’d _retch_ at the thought of sharing a bloodline with _you_!” He was dangerously close again but with his temper flaring like a spitting fire he paid his flicker of caution no heed.  
  
“I may be pathetic but I don’t lie, I don’t cheat and I don’t whore myself around like _you_ , you pretentious, arrogant little _faggot_!” He was quite naïve in certain ways of the world, homosexuality being one of the cloudier areas, and though he didn’t hold any malice towards it, he knew that it would make Malfoy’s blood boil. But he was too close.  
  
Draco’s hands seized his forearm roughly, throwing him face-first into the table top and yanking it behind his back spitefully until Harry was forced to bend over the desk, his face pressed into its surface to avoid the breaking of his arm. If he moved, it’d break. He winced in pain but made no noise – he had had worse. “Get _off_ me!” He screamed, his stomach lurching as he felt Malfoy fall flush over his back. Too close!  
  
Suddenly, the door to the office flew open and Harry closed his eyes, cheeks burning with humiliating at the sight of the young girl standing in the doorway – stunned. “I…I’m sorry – sorry for interrupting, Mr Malfoy,” the secretary stammered, flushed dark at the sight before her, but Draco made no attempt to move.  
“Get this idiot off of me!!!” Harry screamed, not daring to struggle. The girl looked between them, before focusing solely on Malfoy for instruction.  
  
“Just a quarrel with my fiancée,” Malfoy sneered, without moving and Harry’s hands clenched into fists as he growled furiously. The Blond was using this as an opportunity for humiliating him and he loathed it.  
“Get him off me or get someone who will!” Harry demanded of the stunned girl, and Draco gave his arm a painful twist.  
  
“Come back later, Ellithia, I'm a little caught up at the moment. But don't worry, I haven't forgotten our 'session',” Draco smirked, and from beyond that expression, Harry had a good idea what exactly a 'session’ with Draco Malfoy would entail, and he didn't like it.  
  
The girl quickly closed the door and strolled away. Malfoy just chuckled quietly then, pressuring Harry's arm harder so it sent jolts of pain up through his shoulder and neck. The position Harry was in made it hard to even struggle against him and his voice was husky and sarcastic as it whispered over the back of Harry's goose-pimpled neck. “I'll grind the meaning of the word ' _faggot_ ’ into every last limb of your body you pathetic prick, so thoroughly that you will regret the way you spoke to me, a Malfoy. Your tight little backside doesn’t stand a chance…”  
  
“Maybe I should use my last four days to fuck it raw on some other sluts like you then,” Harry sneered, throwing his head back in an attempt to smack Draco in the face, only succeeding in having his face slammed forcefully to the desk, pinned there so that those vile lips could hover near his ear again in mock seduction. “I’m never going to be able to get it up sharing your bed so I may as well enjoy an erection while I can…”  
  
His words were an empty threat, but Draco thought of him as property and again, it would infuriate him. Perhaps his survival instinct was screaming in his ears to shut up, but his temper was alight like fiendfyre in his chest. “Go fuck your whores while you’re still pretty, Draco, because one day they’ll realise how ugly you are inside and you’ll have nothing. And you can fuck _me_ until I bleed but I’ll never want you, and I’ll never _give_ myself to you – _ever_. You’re not deserving of even _my_ scrawny body.”  
  
The Blond crushed Harry's head into the table harder, his fingers pulsing with burning fury and adrenaline when he yanked a fistful of dark hair back and slammed the boy’s face a few times against the marble surface. It sounded like Harry's skull had cracked each time he bashed it into the table. Finally, he reached round and furiously grasped Harry's 'private' area with a smirk.  
  
“What was that you were saying? Because you seem pretty fucking hard to me right now.”  
  
“Who says I didn’t get a stiffy from your lovely secretary?” Harry ground out, stone-still under the Blond’s hands. “Get your rank, wandering hands off me you slut and go fuck someone who _wants_ you!”  
  
Draco growled with frustration and pulled back, Harry scrambling upright when Draco finished straightening himself up. Walking to the far end of the room, Draco glanced back at Harry briefly before he spoke. “I'll see you in four days.”  
  
Harry frowned at him, stumbling back slightly in bewilderment of his sudden release. He stared at the Blond’s back for a moment, before heading to the door. Pulling it open, he remained on the threshold for a moment, his mind breezing through what had just happened. “You can beat me,” he began steadily, quietly so that his voice reached Draco with a low hum, “You can torture me but you will never hurt me, not the way you want to. I don’t care about you anywhere near enough for you to do that.” _I don’t care enough about anything to be hurt by it anymore,_ he thought exhaustedly. He waited for a moment, though he was not really sure what for and then as an infuriating realisation flashed across his mind he shut the door behind him, strolling quickly through the building for the nearest exit, in an attempt to brush that thought from his mind.  
  
 _I haven’t been that angry at someone since Voldemort died,_ Harry winced at that thought, not willing to ponder it. No one had had the power to infuriate the empty shell he had become for years…  
  
  
At that departure, Draco felt his blood boil beneath his skin, his hand uncontrollably rushing to the papers on the table and throwing them into the air with frustration. “FUCK!” He yelled from the top of his retching lungs, adrenaline making his fingers shake and his body quiver in anger as the papers scattered across the floor. He had never felt so humiliated.  
  
Storming over to the cabinet that stood tall in the corner, he rushed open door, grabbing the lid on a bottle of whisky and twisting it until it opened. A low, rumbling growl of frustration tumbled over his lips as he poured a generous amount into the glass and with a single sip he downed the contents of the glass. His throat burned immensely as the liquid trickled down, but his nerves from the anger subsided and he took his seat back at the table.  
  
  
 _~To Be Continued..._


	2. Empty Vows

[Two]  
 **Empty Vows**  
  
  
  
Harry _‘Potter’s’_ last days had passed by uneventful. Hermione had kept her promise to keep his sacrifice a secret until tomorrow – when it would be too late. That of course, meant that they probably wouldn’t be able to come to the nauseating _reception_ afterwards to support him, but it was necessary to keep them from interfering in such a way that would only get them hurt. He hadn’t seen, nor heard from his repugnant _husband-to-be_ either, (thankfully) but he had received a few painfully forced polite notes from Lucius Malfoy – regarding details he _had_ to be aware of, location of the ‘wedding’ (though he much preferred to call it the ‘signing’) and such things…  
  
He had enjoyed the company of the Weasleys and in particular Ron, Hermione and Hugo a lot of the time, making the most of his few precious friends before…who knew _what_ happened! It was late morning of his _last day_ , however, when the final straw came. His robes arrived (courtesy of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy) for the dreaded day itself and though they were simple enough, (not all that different from his dress robes at the Yule Ball all those years ago) it was still enough to make bile rise like acid in his throat. _Physical proof that Draco Malfoy can make someone ill,_ Harry thought bitterly, visibly blanching when he saw the small ring-box sitting atop his neatly folded robes. He did not want nor need to open it; he knew what it was…  
  
The vile wedding band he was expected to give to his _vile_ …‘fiancée’ tomorrow was what initially drove him from his home in an attempt to lose his mind until he had to face his fate. Alcohol wasn’t one of his tastes but tonight it was a blessing. He chose a quiet, muggle club in London, a perch at the bar away from the relaxed crowds and ordered the strongest beverage the bartender could offer him. A girl across the bar smiled coquettishly at him and he politely pretended not to see her, but in turning his head he caught a flash of white-blond, and he had to double-take to make sure he saw it right.  
  
Malfoy was sitting in one of the more private booths, not having noticed him yet (not that that mattered any) and not alone.  
  
  
“There's a man, over there, he is staring at you,” the skimpily-dressed woman sitting opposite Draco informed him, causing Draco's attention to snap from his all too cosy situation, to the dark-haired man who was standing awkwardly at the bar.   
  
“What a coincidence,” He murmured, alcohol thick and potent on his breath as he fidgeted around the table and sat closer to the women with practiced ease. His arm slipped over her shoulder and he sent a spine-chilling glare towards Harry, who seemed to be pretending not to notice, even when the Blond leant in further, engrossed in the filth he was whispering into the woman’s ear…  
  
  
Maybe it was the alcohol combined with disbelief, but Harry could only chuckle despondently, swirling what remained of his drink in the slushy mess of ice at the bottom before downing it. “I give you my future husband,” he murmured to himself sarcastically, as the brunette across the bar struggled to catch his eye again. This time, however, he let her. Hermione and Ron had often remarked on his inability to flirt, but the alcohol made everything seem a little easier and he smiled back, the seeming reciprocation of her interest beckoning her over to him. If he had cared enough to glance back over to Malfoy, he would have seen the blond stiffen a little with irritation at being ignored.  
  
Draco shuffled in his chair, distracted even as he made the nameless woman beside him focus on only him. He leant in and placed a kiss on her forehead – almost romantically, to Harry's distaste. “I'm just going to the toilet,” He told her, somehow making even _that_ sound seductive, and stood from his table, pinpointing the location of the loo door behind where Harry was standing and strolled over, not so much as giving Harry a single look when he shoved passed.   
  
Harry downed the shot the bartender had set in front of him and got to his feet. He shuddered at the intensity of the drink but did not stumble as he followed the blond into the toilets. The bright, unbearably harsh lighting made him wince as he left the softness of the club for the whitewash bathroom. Harry looked around; Malfoy was nowhere to be seen so was probably in one of the cubicles. He gave a small shrug and moved over to the (thankfully clean) urinals.  
  
The spiteful lights were making him dizzy. The fluorescents combined with alcohol did not have a good effect on him evidently and he leant his forehead against the cool, wall-length mirror that lined the urinals. Allowing his eyes to close he breathed slowly, waiting for the dizziness to disappear.   
  
He remained there even when he’d finished peeing, waiting for the light-headedness to subside, not bothering to put himself away – he would soon wish he had. A revoltingly warm hand wrapped around his limp member and his eyes shot open, staring into the mirror he was still leaning against to see a smug Draco Malfoy glaring back at him. “Get the _fuck_ off me you sick freak!” Harry snarled.  
  
Draco smashed Harry's head forwards into the mirror and tossed his penis a few times, a few remainders of urine sprinkled uncontrollably out of the urinal and over the floor. Malfoy glared teasingly at a repulsed Harry Potter and murmured hotly against his neck as he squeezed Harry's (surprisingly hardening) cock. “You're the sick one, Potter, getting hard over a few jerks – _pathetic_ …”  
  
“Never drank before,” Harry explained through gritted teeth, “I’d have to be plastered to get a reaction over you!” But Malfoy’s hand kept moving over him and he had to bite hard into his lip to silence himself. “Didn’t think you were getting such bad a reaction off your whores that you needed to resort to jumping drunk guys while they’re taking a piss!” His hand went to Malfoy’s wrist, tugging it away, but Draco’s grip was tight around a very vulnerable part of his body and it wouldn’t budge easily.  
  
The bathroom door flew open then, (giving Harry an awful sense of repetition) as a poor unsuspecting muggle stared at them in drunken shock. The hand around his stiffening prick moved faster, his lips bruising under the force of his teeth that kept his inebriated moans silent. Harry watched in the mirror as Malfoy shot the drunken muggle a glare that promised death.   
  
“Why settle for one whore when I can have two?” Draco snarled with a glistening smirk. He really was unbelievable. Caressing that tender organ still with renewed vigour, he grasped at it so roughly that even if Harry wanted to get pleasure from it (which he didn't) he wouldn't have much chance. The _Chosen One’s_ face twisted with a grimace and he hissed under his breath before he could stop himself, knowing all too well that Draco _knew_ it was hurting him and only grasped him harder when sound escaped him.   
  
The man at the door quickly rushed into one of the cubicles, avoiding their eyes as he slammed the door shut behind him. With a morbidly pleased smile, Draco leant back over Harry's neck, whispering hotly into his nape and relishing in his _fiancé’s_ shiver. “Don't worry, Potter, after tomorrow, you will officially be mine and you won't be able to deny me anymore…”  
  
“I can’t refuse you my body but I’ll _never_ be yours!” Harry spat, his nails digging hard into Malfoy’s wrist, until the blond hissed in pain and released him. Harry shrugged his body off and backed away towards the door hastily, tucking himself away as the blond surveyed him with a predatory hunger in his eyes. He stared, sickened at Malfoy for few more lingering moments, before running his hands hastily under the tap and bolting from the toilet.  
  
 _That’s what he thinks,_ Malfoy thought smugly when he unzipped his pants and finally did what he went in there for. Harry _would_ be his…  
  
The soft glow of the club was certainly gentler to his eyes and Harry inhaled shakily, scanning the room as he got his breath back. Two, dark eyes caught his from across the room – the same eyes that had been fluttering seductively at Draco Malfoy not a few minutes ago. Harry smirked broadly, alcohol (and a peculiar need for revenge) drowning his inhibitions as he moved over to slide into the booth next to her.  
  
“Saw you staring over at me earlier, sweetie,” the girl murmured fluidly, wetting her lips as she looked him up and down. Something in Harry’s stomach felt decidedly uncomfortable being this close to _anyone_ that wanted him ‘that’ way, but that last shot was still buzzing hotly in his ears and his cock was still pulsing against the barrier of his trousers with a desire that had _nothing_ to do with Draco Malfoy. The anger flooding his veins at the vile blond only intensified his arousal…  
  
“Of course,” Harry replied, as softly as he could, “you’re very pretty.”  
“Hmm, if you aren’t the sweetest thing,” she purred as she leant in, Harry’s gut twisting a little – not the way he had expected it to. “So you don’t bat for that blond boy’s team?” She asked, evidently meaning Malfoy. Harry’s smile widened.  
“So far from it–”  
“Oh good,” she cut him off, before she seized his face and leapt at his mouth. Harry went still under her, but she didn’t seem to notice or care.  
  
  
Running his hands under the water and cleaning them slowly with the soap, until they felt smooth once more, Draco gave a small, triumphant smile before pacing over to the hand-dryer and watching thoughtfully as the steam blew away the moisture. He slicked his fingers back through his locks and straightened his expensive suit before opening the bathroom door. His calm, neat ritual was shattered, however, his eyes flying wide and burning with fury, with irritation when he saw them – that whore and Harry – kissing?!  
  
Flying across the club, he bolted to their side and seized the woman’s arm tightly, nails digging into her skin as he tore her away from him, startling Harry (and everyone else watching) by dragging her outside by her hair. People from inside the club gathered at the window (including Harry) and watched as the once-slytherin exploded.   
  
“You bloody slut! Our sessions are over,” He snarled, watching her fall to her knees as she pleaded with him.  
“But – no! I need the money! I…you don't understand…I–” Her words cut short as Malfoy shoved her aside and glared over at the people at the window with cold, menacing eyes his father would be proud of. None of them dared to even interfere. He grunted, a superior glare spreading across his features as he strode away, leaving the woman to tremble on the floor.  
  
Harry watched though the window as the blond bolted before he moved outside to help the woman to her feet, pulling away from her once she was steady. “As of tomorrow, that man is my husband,” Harry explained stoically. “I can’t see why all you girls throw yourselves at him, but I advise you to escape where I can’t – he’s bad news.” With that he walked away slowly into the alley that would lead him back into mid-london, perhaps he could have a few more drinks to tide him over until it was a suitable time to collapse into a coma on his bed.  
  
* * *  
  
“Thanks for coming with me,” Harry murmured as he sat in the all-but deserted hall of the building where he would sign himself over to Malfoy. Hermione smiled beside him uneasily, patting his shoulder carefully.  
“It’s alright,” she assured him, “You wouldn’t let me tell the Weasleys but I could hardly let you face this alone could I? I didn’t let you face _You-Know-Who_ alone!”  
“Malfoy is worse,” Harry smirked, never raising his head, never pulling his gaze from where it lay on his shoes.  
  
The dress robes were comfortable and warm but he almost wished the collar was itchy or the tie too tight, _anything_ so that he could remain angry, irritated and on-edge. He didn’t _want_ to be complacent about it all, but it was so tiring… _everything_ had been to tiring to get infuriated or passionate about for a long time.  
  
“Are you sure you don’t want me to come to the reception afterwards?” Hermione asked carefully. “The Malfoys are a highly esteemed, pureblood family – they will be inviting half the wizarding world, won’t you be a tad… _lonely_?”  
Harry looked up at her blankly at last.  
“No…listen I bet Malfoy has a tasteless, vulgar announcement that we were married all lined up so go and tell the Weasleys as soon as this… _signing_ is over. I want them to know before anyone else.”  
  
“Alright, Harry, whatever you wish,” Hermione offered, knowing she could not enter that building with him in any case given whom and _what_ he was marrying. “Ron will go mad when he finds out, you realise?” She reminded him, but Harry already seemed to know that and remained unfazed – by anything. “Oh, Harry,” She cried again, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him into a hug. “I’m sorry…I’m so sorry…” She so wanted to do something – anything to change things for him. All she had ever witnessed was his sadness and suffering, and she hated it. But there wasn't anything she could do.  
  
“There you are, Mr Potter,” came the cool, ominous voice of Lucius Malfoy as he appeared in the dreaded doorway, his cold eyes running over Hermione scathingly. “Mrs Weasley,” he murmured stiffly, before glancing back to Harry. “I do hope you weren’t under the delusion that this… _filth_ would be accompanying you?”   
  
Harry stood slowly, still not able to get angry, not even in Hermione’s defence which bothered him more than he’d care to admit. Maybe he shouldn’t have gotten Hermione to banish his hang-over, it might’ve made him more cranky. “I haven’t invited anyone to the reception, if you want me to behave myself, make you look good and not humiliate you in front of the entire wizarding community then she will come in with me now – or do you imagine my presence will help your family any if I make it look like I was forced into this?” It was as if he could see Lucius Malfoy’s mind ticking, and he stared blankly at the man until he gave them both a sneer, turning into the white door just in front of them.  
  
Harry straightened up a little, offering Hermione a swift glance before leading her into the room after Lucius. The room was just an office, or at least it seemed that way. It was eggshell white with plush carpeting and a wizened old man stood at the head of the room with a desk between him and the few gathered in the room. It had been made clear by Lucius that a proper ‘wedding’ would have made a mockery of their family and Harry was all too pleased to see that the only thing he would probably have to worry about was the dreaded, overdone reception.  
  
Draco stood on one side of the desk, his mother preening over his appearance as always, with Lucius and (for some reason) Snape right beside her. Harry would have laughed if he had possessed the will. Aside from the dark, smart robes Draco was dressed in, he looked _exactly_ as he had done the numerous times his parents had seen him off at the Hogwarts express. His blond locks were even slicked back in the same way, as opposed to the way it had hung in his eyes last night…  
  
Harry shuddered, taking his place opposite Malfoy with an inward cringe. The only warmth was Hermione’s silent presence behind him.   
  
“Mr Harry James Potter and Mr Draco Abraxas Malfoy?” Asked the old wizard across the desk, adorned with garish, purple robes as he studied the papers in front of him. Harry nodded, feeling oddly detached from the situation, but Malfoy must have nodded also because the man offered a professional, mild smile. “Excellent, if you would like to read through your vows.”   
  
Harry frowned. ‘Vows’ evidently meant the ‘contract’ – it made sense, he supposed. At Hermione and Ron’s wedding, they had been in love; their unbreakable vow of marriage had been spoken with careful thought and affection. He and Malfoy were not promising anything to each other, they were striking a deal with conditions that would be met under the pressure of the unbreakable bond of marriage…  
  
He was definitely too detached from this whole situation, but he supposed it would do him no good to scream with outrage. _And I won’t give Malfoy the satisfaction of watching me lose it,_ he thought as he scanned the document, seeing all of his conditions that he had demanded in place. Draco hadn’t demanded much, there was that condition for his body to be available to him whenever he wished, and for it to remain _exclusively_ his – no one else’s. He demanded control over all money and assets that were not already promised elsewhere in the contract. That was fine with him, he had very few possessions left that were precious and most of them were useless to Malfoy, with the exception of perhaps his invisibility cloak…  
  
Suddenly, Malfoy’s jeering voice broke his concentration.  
  
“Well, are the final arrangements to your liking, Potter?” He sneered, just to further torment the man beside him who was being forced into a marriage with him. Though despite what Potter felt about it, Draco didn't even see it as a marriage, just another opportunity for acquiring a priceless possession – and that possession was Harry Potter. He was still going to fuck around and do as he pleased, because despite Potter's petty requests, he hadn't got his way, hadn’t even been met half way.  
  
The unfairness of it all was not lost on him, no in fact it pleased him, particularly as Draco would still be screwing who he wanted when he wanted, while Harry stayed at home and acted like the perfect little housewife. He smiled devilishly at the thought, that this was the future between them. Harry Potter would live the rest of his days in Draco’s own personal hell, and Draco loved knowing that.   
  
He snatched the documents from Harry and seized the quill from the ink-well on the desk, leaning down to the before them, where the spokes-wizard stood, and signed his name with a hurried flourish, (as part of the ceremony) with no romance and not so much as a look up at his _husband_ , even when he slid it across the glossy tabletop to Harry.  
  
It was the first step. It suddenly hit Harry, too hard at the sight of Draco's name on that paper below him.  
  
Harry’s hand felt like jelly when he reached for the pen, and he continued to stare at the line where he was to sign, right beside Malfoy. He also knew that it wasn’t _Harry James Potter,_ he would be writing. They had argued, but as he had expected, he’d lost the battle and now he was just resigned. “You may as well have taken my other names too because there’s nothing of me left,” Harry murmured to Malfoy.  
“Don’t tempt me,” Malfoy sneered unsympathetically, his cold eyes watching as Harry signed his name, _Harry James Malfoy._  
  
It made Harry wanted to spit on the vile contract when he straightened up and backed away to let Lucius Malfoy and Hermione sign as witnesses. He had just signed away his freedom. He winced at the returning dizziness and shook his head, swaying slightly until Hermione’s hand steadied him. Frighteningly close, he heard Draco chucking hollowly at him.  
  
“You're mine…Harry,” He breathed quietly, so only Harry could hear. The ceremony didn't really express romanticism or affection, not like a wedding, but Malfoy couldn’t help but torment his new _spouse_. “Don’t I get to kiss the bride?” He heard Harry growling low in his throat at that, inciting a sadistic chuckle from the blond, one that only silenced when the spokes-wizard launched his wand arm into the air, speaking formally still. “Harry James Malfoy and Draco Abraxas Malfoy, will now live together in Draco's private section of the Malfoy Manor that has been provided,” He stated and Harry realised that this session was going to drag on…and on…  
  
“Exchange the rings please,” the elderly wizard coaxed. Harry nearly choked on his own tongue. That gesture he had forgotten about until then, and it seemed more intimate than anything else he would be forced to adhere to that night. He didn’t like it. _Any_ of it. His still shaky hand delved into his pocket, retrieving the plain velvet box. He was astonished upon opening it, expecting something gaudy and tasteless and instead seeing a stunning platinum band. The flawless surface was engrained with two serpents curved up from the bale and up to meet in the centre where a dark green jewel was inlaid.   
  
Plucking it from the box, Harry winced at the tightness of his throat – he couldn’t breathe. He held the ring out to Malfoy impatiently, wishing for this all to be over. He was _not_ going to put the bloody thing on Malfoy’s prissy finger _that_ was for sure.  
  
“Well? Slip it on already, _Scarhead_ ,” Malfoy clucked impatiently, and reluctantly, Harry quickly slipped the object around his finger. Draco, in turn, lifted Harry's hand up when the old wizard spoke the words, “You may now place the ring on your husband.” He slipped the identical object onto Harry’s wedding finger, but it seemed almost sexual with the suggestive twists he gave it, his lustful eyes flicking to Harry’s face briefly, before pushing it to the crest of his knuckle.  
  
Harry's hand dropped immediately from Draco’s (clearly disturbed), but he found himself choking on the very air he breathed when the elderly wizard stated simply, “You may now kiss your partner.”  
  
Both Lucius and Snape looked at one and other, also seemingly disgusted at the idea, while Draco seemed to be the only one smiling, almost triumphantly!  
  
Harry grimaced with revulsion, his hands curling into fists as Malfoy stepped closer to him. He deliberated on sending Hermione from the room before she could see the vile act but as he turned his head and parted his lips for speech, a spiteful hand caught his face, yanking him roughly back for a tongue to invade his mouth.  
  
Draco forced his tongue deep inside that unskilled mouth (well aware that everyone was watching) and swept it over Harry’s dormant muscle. Why should he just settle for a peck on the lips when this would humiliate his _bride_ so much more? Drawing back with a loud _smacking_ noise, he chuckled quietly, wiping his mouth as it tipped up in a grin. “Well at least I know I married a rubbish kisser, I suppose,” He bit out scathingly, watching Harry's eyes almost burn him alive when he laughed. Everyone was watching, it was so…humiliating, so… _perfect._  
  
“Your whore didn’t seem to think so when she chose me over you last night,” Harry sneered, drawing back and wiping his mouth in revulsion.   
“Draco!” Narcissa chimed, “Honestly, such indiscretions look bad on the family.” She looked from Harry to Draco for a moment, showing no particular distaste for Harry but not a great deal of warmth either, not even when she smiled slightly. “Faithfulness is something a beneficial marriage thrives on, you father and I have never had such incidents.”  
  
So she didn’t approve in Draco’s cavalier sex life, Harry realised, but he suspected simply because she and Lucius Malfoy loved and respected one-another, she expected that fully from them. _She’s in for a shock,_ Harry thought bitterly, as Draco murmured a casual ‘one last adventure’ to placate his doting mother, though Harry saw the lie in those eyes when he said it.  
  
The vile Slytherin straightened himself up at his mother’s words, even if he didn't completely listen to them. He would remain compliant to her wishes, but only to make her happy whilst he shared the same air with her. When she wasn't there, he could just act to please himself, which he would. But he didn't really want to disappoint her, and would avoid it at all costs.  
  
“Here is your marriage certificate,” the elderly wizard chimed in as he signed it with finality, passing it to Draco who handed it to his father. It was then that Harry turned to Hermione.  
“Thank you,” he repeated quietly, “Go now and tell the Weasleys, I’ll…I’ll contact you tomorrow, I hope…”   
  
“If you haven’t contacted me in a few days,” Hermione began, casting a glance back at Draco even as Harry ushered her out the door.  
“Yes,” Harry said, not allowing her to finish. “Listen… Ron is going to explode but…tell him why? Please?” He caught only a small nod and the briefest of hugs before a rough grip on his arm yanked him spitefully away from Hermione and back into the room, where Narcissa and Lucius were waiting with a pot of floo powder. _Off to the vile reception then,_ he thought, paling in revulsion at the prospect of being forced to be at Malfoy’s arm for the rest of the afternoon, like some sort of trophy.  
  
* * *  
  
Draco moved his eyes away from Harry when they entered the main foyer of Malfoy manor, filled with people, their guests, standing around with drinks and the floor scattered in confetti (like some kind of _real_ wedding). Together the _newlyweds_ (along with Narcissa and Lucius) moved through the crowds, and everyone seemed curious of Harry, even though most of them happened to be looking on him with distaste.  
  
 _Most of them did support Voldemort,_ Harry thought, without really caring, _should I be surprised?_ At that moment, a grand lady, dressed in green and her partner hurried over to the _happy couple_ to wish them well. Harry nodded politely and let Draco do the talking, loathing all of these two-faced dignitaries congratulating them – it was all a big lie! And Draco, he just seemed amused!  
  
Harry wrung his hands distractedly as he remained silently at Malfoy’s side, although he supposed he couldn’t call him Malfoy anymore than _Draco_ could call him ‘Potter’. The wedding band felt weird, _wrong_ around his finger and he fiddled with it uncomfortably as he nodded politely to the people he was being introduced to – as Harry _Malfoy_. He definitely didn’t like that.   
  
“You seem distracted,” the cool, serpentine voice of Narcissa Malfoy said from behind him and he turned slightly (fully aware that Draco was listening for his reply) to face her.   
“Tired,” he admitted and there was no whisper of a lie there. She raised a brow and diverted her gaze to Draco.   
“He is far too skinny,” she admonished, “He will need filling out. And he does not seem to thrive well under constant attention, Draco, take him out to the garden for some air once you have greeted our guests.” With that, she leant in to peck her son on the cheek and glide away to her husband’s side.  
  
Harry watched her go with confusion. He had never really spoken to her since she had helped him in the final battle with Voldemort, and where he had a pretty solid judgment on Lucius and Draco, his idea of her was still very vague. But before he could ponder her words any longer, he felt Draco’s gaze weighing heavy on him, and flicked his eyes to him reluctantly. “What?” Harry asked in irritation when the blond did not speak. Lucius Malfoy’s sudden arrival at their side, however, saved him the trouble of answering.  
  
“Come, this way,” Lucius reminded them, shuffling through the crowd until they reached they long dinning table where they would be expected to eat an extravagant three course meal in celebration. “This is one of the final parts of the ceremony,” Lucius whispered beneath his breath in reminder, as they paced through those gathered nearest them and towards the head of the table. “These guests need to witness your marriage as a loving and mutual bond, if they found out this was all for monetary security, we would surely be put out of any good social standing – appearances are _everything_ , so give them a show.”  
  
Harry nodded stiffly at Lucius’s instructions and Draco’s spiteful grip on his arm drew him towards the top of the table. This time, however, the movement was less rushed, more fluid and as Harry fell into stride beside Draco, seeing the blond’s sneer missing from his face, he realised – they were putting on the show _now_. The guests were still filing in behind them but some were already settled and watching the ‘newlyweds’ with awe.   
  
“I’ve had enough with being a freak show,” Harry murmured to himself as he forced a small smile onto his lips, cheeks flushing with _genuine_ embarrassment at being scrutinised and judged by hundreds of people all at once. He really didn’t like crowds. Sliding his arm under Draco’s half-heartedly for display purposes, Harry reached up and tugged at his fringe anxiously, trying to get it to cover his scar.  
  
Draco clucked his tongue impatiently at him as they reached the top of the table, the blond pausing to pull a chair out, but did not sit in it. Harry stared at him a moment or two, before realising his mistake and sat quickly in the chair Draco had pulled out for him. His flush darkened. He hated being paraded around like this, but Draco seemed to _relish_ the attention.  
  
“Thank you,” Harry said to him quietly, as the blond took his own seat beside him (at the right-hand side of the head of the table, where Lucius sat – Narcissa directly opposite Draco, on Lucius’s left).  
“Oh, you are a sweet thing,” some woman a few seats down chirped and Harry pulled a little more at his hair – which until then had been lying at least a _little_ flat. He was just so uncomfortable and he jumped when suddenly, Draco seized his wrist, pulling it away from his fringe with another tut.  
  
Draco fed his hand under the table as everyone was seated, the glorious food suddenly appearing before them in a whirl of swift magic. Lucius stood up to make a toast, clanging his spoon onto the wine glass for attention; everyone looked at him in reaction, the chatter at the table silencing.  
  
But that wandering hand stroked over Harry's leg and up along it smoothly, the ring catching the fabric a tad when finally it reached Harry's _private_ area.  
  
Harry flushed suddenly in a mixture of embarrassment and irritation when Draco looked at him directly and whispered, “What’s the matter, _Darling_?”  
  
“Nothing _Sweetheart_ ,” Harry spat with false affection, his breath hitching as he struggled to keep his composure, especially as Lucius’s speech was ending and people’s eyes were flicking back to him and Malfoy frequently. His skin shuddered with revulsion at the touch but his lower body was tense and pressing eagerly against his trousers for more. He grit his teeth, his hand on the table clenching into a fist. He jumped when the woman beside him patted it caringly.  
  
“Are you ok, dear?” she asked.  
Harry nodded, gasping slightly as he smiled. “I am fine, thanks,” he replied, but a harder squeeze over his prick was evidently Malfoy’s way of saying he wasn’t _acting_ well enough. “I’m just embarrassed to have all this fuss made for me,” he elaborated with a small laugh, gesturing to the elaborate dining hall of Malfoy Manor that they now feasted in. The floor beneath his feet was dark marble, the walls dark green and elaborately dressed with heirlooms and shining tapestries, extending above to the overpowering, glistening ceiling far, _far_ above. Sprinkles of confetti and tasteful banners broke up what he could tell was the usual décor.   
  
The middle-aged woman smiled back at him. “You’re such an endearing young boy; the prophet doesn’t do you justice, particularly as your new husband is the owner.”   
“He just doesn’t like to brag,” Harry lied swiftly, without prompting Malfoy to punish his cock for his bad acting. The slow caresses over his hardness were firmer now, and he struggled to stay silent at the intensity of it. No one else but Malfoy had ever touched him there and it was _infuriating_ that the blond knew – and worse, that he _got off_ on the fact!  
  
“And your wedding ring is so lovely,” she admired. Harry just nodded, until another painful squeeze probed him into words.  
“Mal- _Draco_ has good taste,” Harry said lamely.  
“I can see,” she replied, a flicker in her eyes meaning _him_ and not the ring, but before Harry could reply, the hand groping his cock moved faster and he gasped at the sudden flood of repulsive pleasure that throbbed in his veins. He turned swiftly to face Malfoy, to get him to stop, but the blond was closer than he thought and he turned straight into Malfoy’s lips.  
  
Those gathered at the table made approving sounds and even cheers at what they evidently saw as eager passion. Harry’s colour darkened and he winced as he tried to pull back, but Malfoy’s hand on his cock tightened until his eyes threatened to water so he remained, impassive and humiliated while the blond’s tongue swept across his tightly pressed lips. Harry felt quite sick…  
  
Well aware that all eyes were on them yet again, Malfoy delved his tongue deeper (against his mothers plead for discretion) and swept it over the untouched places of Harry’s mouth. He could feel Harry trying to pull away, so he squeezed his hand tighter over that vulnerable length. Suddenly, he drew away and the hundreds gathered there at the immense table sat stunned to silence at what they had just witnessed.   
  
“It is a beautiful thing, between two men,” the woman beside Narcissa murmured, “Even if I did think your son, Narcissa, would have been better suited to a nice young lady.”   
“Whatever makes him happy,” Narcissa replied idly, though in her silence, Harry saw something more meaningful, more secretive in her eyes.  
“One has to keep up in this day and age,” Lucius added with an alarming smirk. “A toast, to my son and his new husband!” He and the guests raised their glasses and Harry felt like he had shrunk into his chair, all-but gasping with relief as Malfoy’s hand was withdrawn. _At least he didn’t say wife,_ Harry thought bitterly, although his impression of this marriage so far seemed more like a daunting eternity as Draco Malfoy’s decoration and slave.  
  
 _And you made an unbreakable vow that you would let him fuck you,_ he reminded himself with disdain. _You’ve whored your body off for your friends’ well-being and security._  
  
That simple hand on his crotch had made his stomach lurch, now the prospect of being forced into it completely – time after time, made vomit creep up his throat…  
  
“I need to…go,” Harry insisted under his breath as Lucius resumed his seat. Harry (regretfully) flicked his eyes up to Draco for an answer, but no sooner had Draco’s lips parted, Lucius cut him off.  
“Nonsense,” Lucius retorted smoothly, pulling his napkin onto his lap as the starter dish moved before each of the guests with a _pop_. “You are a grown man, Mr _Malfoy_ , you can wait until after.”  
Harry winced, staring down at the numerous choices of silverware in which to eat the soup. He hadn’t really given thought to the feast, but now he realised it was yet another way he was meant to behave that he had absolutely _no_ idea of.  
  
“I think I’m going to be sick,” he murmured, even lower and he felt Draco’s head twist to him but again, Lucius Malfoy spoke first.  
“Then I regret you will not be able to enjoy your meal but do not stop everyone else from doing so,” He stared at Harry carefully for a moment, “Stay where you are and eat, my son requires much of your scrawny body tonight.” The last was a dangerous whisper only Harry and Draco could hear, but only Harry winced at the insinuation. Resigned to his struggle of keeping down the food, he glanced at Draco to see which spoon he’d picked up to eat the soup with, but saw his menacing gaze instead.   
  
Narcissa intervened calmly at her husband’s words. “Come, Dearest, if he doesn’t feel so well then allow Draco to escort him to the bathroom?” She suggested.  
“No,” He replied blankly, “Both of them will make a scene if they leave together without so much as touching the feast.” He looked over at Harry unsmpathetically then. “That’s my final word, now eat.”  
  
Draco sighed in frustration when he caught Harry observing him out of the corner of his eye. Someone like Harry Potter – _Harry Malfoy_ , he corrected himself, ought to know basic table manners!  
  
“Honestly _Harry_ , is there _nothing_ you can do right?” He teased under his breath.  
  
Harry’s gaze narrowed with irritation, before he remembered he was supposed to make this marriage look…amiable, and he let his anger fall from his face and watched Draco pick up a particular spoon to dip into the soup. Harry copied him quietly, deciding on keeping his head down for the rest of the meal – which would have been a good plan, were his _husband_ and father-in-law not intent on intensifying his humiliation.  
  
“Is the manor to your liking?” Lucius tried at civil conversation. Harry blinked up at him for a moment.  
“It’s…nice I suppose – interior decorating is lost on me to be honest.” A hard kick to his shin reminded him to lie _better_ and he threw a quick scowl at Draco before adding, “I suppose I won’t be seeing any of it outside of Draco’s room for the next few days anyway.” A few of the nearest guests laughed pleasantly and Harry cringed slightly. How could they honestly believe him?! _I don’t believe for one_ second _that I can_ possibly _look in love with Malfoy_ , he thought as he made a fuss of finishing his starter, the warm fluid soothing his roiling belly somewhat. Maybe the sickness was a mix of missing breakfast and lunch _and_ the prospect of his fate that loomed overhead…  
  
The dinner dragged on slowly, Harry’s struggle with the correct cutlery turning him off of the meal, until they reached dessert. A large chocolate truffle drizzled with honey toppings and mini marshmallow squares. Even to someone in Harry's position, even with his nausea, the meal was appetising. But when the guests began scoffing down their pudding, Harry couldn't help but think Ron would have fitted this picture better and that only tugged his mind towards where his best friend would be ranting and raving right about now, having discovered his fate…  
  
Draco seemed to be one of the few people who remained pleasant-mannered when he cut his truffle with his fork, and chewed down onto it. He licked around the sticky substance suggestively, _feeling_ Harry watching when his lips encased the chocolate piece and began melting it with slow, deliberate sucks. “Hmm, this is really perfect,” he murmured huskily, before diving in for another piece. He nudged Harry once again when he noticed him staring in disgust.  
  
“I…” Harry attempted speech, merely turning his attention back to his own food with embarrassment. He poked at it uselessly for a few moments before bringing it to his mouth and eating as artlessly as he could manage. It was hard, with the chocolate melting on his tongue like that – he’d never had anything like it before, not even at Hogwarts and it set his taste-buds alight. But then, out of the corner of his eye he caught another sinful glimpse of Malfoy’s show. “Stop it!” He insisted under his breath to Draco only.  
  
Draco grinned at Harry from behind his fork and licked round the brown sugary substance, his tongue crushing the chocolate tip when he finally slid his bite past those pink lips and deep into his throat. He knew how uncomfortable Harry was getting beside him, but that only gave him the inclination to continue. “Hmmm,” He sighed, swallowing hard so Harry could hear.  
  
Harry winced at the down-low twitch Draco’s actions inspired. _Sick,_ he spat at himself, his throat tight around his own food as he swallowed. _Just because he owns you doesn’t mean you have to quiver like a_ girl _at every move!_ His stomach felt full long before he had finished his dessert, but he forced down the rest in any case to not be rude, he didn’t need to be reprimanded on his manners by anyone in front of this many people.   
  
Glancing to Draco again, he saw the blond talking to his father about something of no consequence and was left to sit there awkwardly, silently. He hated how he was left to constantly look to the bastard for instruction as to what to do next. Hopefully once this was over they would have minimal public excursions, but he doubted it. He was fully aware that he was going to be used in more than one aspect, the task of getting the Malfoy family back in good with the public and the ministry being one of them…  
  
 _Well if they’re convinced I’m madly in love with Malfoy then that would definitely redeem them,_ he thought with a sneer, jumping slightly when Draco got to his feet beside him, pulling out Harry’s chair in a false display of chivalry and Harry got up quickly before Draco could yank the chair from under him. “We’re going?” He asked steadily, but his apprehension flickered clearly in his eyes, and Draco smiled viciously.   
  
“Very well,” Lucius nodded, allowing both of them to depart from the table, those seated offering a loud applause that just made Harry’s stomach lurch. They really had no idea what he was about to suffer.  
  
Draco lead Harry out into the foyer and up the main, curving staircase, towards his part of the manor, grasping his hand tightly though there were no witnesses to see it (and therefore no need). Harry's hand felt hot against Draco's slightly cooler one and Draco couldn't help but think that Harry's body temperature had risen because of his little show. He smiled broadly, feeling smug. He knew Harry wouldn't be able to resist him forever, and watching him struggle and thrash beneath his will was what made the victory more thrilling.   
  
“To my rooms then, Mr. Malfoy?” Draco sneered, looking over at his dark-haired husband from the corner of his eye, as he ushered him closer to their destination. Harry looked terrified, it couldn’t have been going any _more_ perfect.  
  
 _  
~To Be Continued..._


	3. Teeth of Defeat

[Three]  
 **Teeth of Defeat**  
  
  
  
Harry swallowed hard, the last bite of his dessert seeming to have not been able to move past the lump there, leaving that sweet, seductive taste lingering in his mouth. The long corridor on the second floor lead them away from the noise of the guests, and Draco paused after a few moments, pushing open a large oak door. Harry followed him in without being asked, closing the door behind him as he stared around the room they had entered.  
  
Draco had lead him straight into a large sitting area, books lining the walls at the far end where a warming fire burned in the elaborate, marble hearth. It didn’t look _unlike_ the Gryffindor common room, albeit with a colour scheme of lush, dark greens. Even he had to admit, it was… _warming_ , despite his nervousness.  
  
“This is all ours,” Draco explained vacantly, moving over to push open one of the nearest doors. “This is the bathroom – and this is our bedroom.”  
  
Harry nodded dumbly, all of it a tad overwhelming, making his legs shake as if they would buckle under his queasy stomach when he moved over to the new door Draco was holding open for him expectantly. Harry’s eyes widened slightly, daunted by the four-poster, draped in silver and emerald fabrics that dominated the bedroom. He swallowed again, not liking the way his possessions seemed to have been dumped in a large trunk at the end of the bed.   
  
“You can sort your stuff out and put it all away tomorrow,” Draco said stiffly, as if reading the scowl that had shot across Harry’s features. Harry just nodded again, his eyes lingering over the dark, rich wardrobes at the far end of the room. The heavy curtains were already drawn for the night but Harry could see that they would be grand, near floor-to-ceiling windows out of his beautiful prison.  
  
 _He says ‘ours’ as if I really am his equal_ , he thought bitterly, _but only because he knows I’m not…_  
  
Suddenly, that iron-like grip seized his upper arm again and Harry jumped back a few steps, sneering at the lustful smirk that had possessed his _husband’s_ lips.  
  
“Follow me,” Draco said sternly, his grip tightening on Harry’s wrist. The blond strolled ahead quickly, yanking Harry towards a corner of the room which was draped with long black curtains that hung to the floor with long, elegant trains like a ball gown. He moved the curtains aside and to Harry’s sheer horror, revealed a chunky, iron door. Draco smiled sinfully, waving his wand over it to banish the wards for their presence only before pulling it open. The groaning creak of the hinges sent a shiver down Harry’s spine.  
  
Suddenly, Draco took hold of Harry’s hair, (sensing his intention to bolt) and swung him toward the pitch darkness beyond the door. Harry stumbled and struggled in the blackness, feeling stairs beneath his feet – a never-ending flight to his doom that Draco was dragging him down. “I have a wedding gift for you, Mr _Malfoy_ ,” Draco hissed darkly.  
  
“Get off me!” Harry demanded uselessly, his voice raised an octave in fear. “Get off me – GET OFF ME!!!” His panic soared up, rearing it’s serpentine head before lunging for his heart, crushing it spitefully. His breath clawed at his throat as he screamed. It was doubtful if anyone could hear him in the void of the manor, and even if they could, did they know this was here? His mind wandered to the vile, vulgar torments Draco Malfoy was about to exact upon him and he let out another furious, _desperate_ scream. He whirled on the stairs, shoving Draco back roughly into the banister and clawing at the hand that had hold of his arm.   
  
“I’ll kill you! Let go of me! _Don’t touch me_!!!”  
  
A vicious laugh ripped from Draco’s mouth at his fruitless demands, ringing through the darkness and sending a cold, bone-shuddering quiver through his body. He could handle torment, he could handle pain, even humiliation but what Draco had planned he _knew_ he couldn’t handle. Malfoy gave him a rough shove and Harry yelped as he stumbled back, crashing hard onto the unforgiving floor.  
  
Suddenly, a blinding light flashed across the room. Harry winced, struggling onto his knees and rubbing the back of his head where it had hit the floor. Shakily, his eyes adjusted to the light. A shocking jolt of pain erupted in his head, he hoped he had a concussion, maybe if he was lucky he’d pass out and never wake up! That was certainly preferable to what fate awaited him in the room that came to light around him.  
  
Harry felt his full belly lurch at the sight of his torture chamber, designed especially for him. The hard floor was dressed in dark red carpet, the hot light from somewhere above gleaming menacingly from the devices – some of which he had never _imagined_ existed! Nearest to him hung a wooden rack with cuffs marking either corner – to restrain _him_! There were all sorts of similar _things_ through the room, ropes and chains suspended from the ceiling, a bed similar to the ones at St Mungo’s that possessed restraints made him shudder, as did the machine rigged with obscene _phallic_ objects that sat at the end.   
  
He staggered to his feet shakily, his movements impeded by dizziness from the fall and by the eerie presence of Draco at his back, drawing in. A leather stool with another rubber penis sticking out the top stopped him in his tracks. _What kind of room is this_?! His mind swirled with panic and pain and he stumbled back, right into Draco, overwhelmed by the sight of the endless table lining the side of the room, or more accurately, the torture devices laying on them – _waiting for him!_  
  
“L-Let me _go_!” Harry insisted, his voice nearly lost as his wide gaze remained fixed on the room’s horrors.  
  
Draco raised his hands to Harry’s shoulders as he backed into him and clutched them, causing Harry to stiffen. Leaning in he breathed hotly over the soft shell of his ear, smirking gleefully when he felt Harry wriggle beneath his hold. Perfect. With a chuckle he shoved him forwards into the wall so he smashed into one of the tall restraints roughly. It seemed Harry really was going to fight back.  
  
“Don’t fight me,” Draco commanded, forcing Harry’s arms apart so they were spread either side of him, his forearm pressuring the back of Harry’s neck so he was unable to move and the blond heard him wince at such painful restraint. His face pressed against the wooden panel of the device that ran down the centre and Draco quickly fought to buckle up the straps. He bit into Harry’s shoulder spitefully, and Harry cried out, slamming his head backwards, narrowly missing Draco’s face. “Stop bloody moving!” Draco hissed, but Harry didn’t stop, in fact his struggles worsened, especially when Draco finally managed to restrain his wrists and strap them up.  
  
After an agonising struggle, Harry was bound, his back towards an observing Draco who spared him only a brief glance, before stripping his trousers away roughly. Harry snarled, yanking at the leather cuffs when the cold air breached his bare bottom. _What was this?_  
  
Silver eyes stared at the pure and untouched skin in thought…and lust.  
  
Approaching the table where his torturous toys were sitting, Draco stared at the selection for a moment, before selecting a long, black leather whip. He caressed the length with his fingers seductively, running his tongue up the side and leaving a trail of spittle along it’s tail. He tapped it in his hands a few times, seeing Harry flinch over his shoulder at the light swat sound of it tapping his palm. He relished that fear, that anxiety, and the smirk it inspired was still in place when he walked back over to where Harry was bound.  
  
“W-Whatever it is,” Harry began, evidently failing to keep the desperation from his voice, “Don’t – I can’t – I can’t _do_ this!” He insisted, tugging violently at the bonds of the wooden rack. “I’ve never done…” He winced, loathing not knowing what to expect. His inexperience in this type of _play_ was his downfall – the not knowing was worse than anything else. He shuddered furiously when he felt Malfoy’s presence close to him, his breath at the nape of his neck and the cool, strips of leather stroking over the tops of his buttocks teasingly. Harry grit his teeth against the teasing, feather-light strokes over his arse-cheeks – he couldn’t stand it! Waiting for what may or may not happen… He _hated_ fear!  
  
“Don’t!” He gasped, disgusted by the distinct _pleading_ in his voice. His eyes slammed shut as he fought fruitlessly to compose himself, to rip himself free so that the leather straps around his wrists pulled taut. “Malfoy – Draco, _don’t_!!!”  
  
He continued to caress Harry’s firm backside with the whip, brushing light tickles along the backs of his thighs and under his balls – he saw Harry cringe and he cackled, probing the sac with the grip of the leather whip and Harry winced, his body beginning to shake.  
  
“Make me stop…” Draco’s words sent shudders through that untouched skin, and he laughed evilly as he brought his arm back and lifted the whip up high. With a sudden lunge he brought the whip down, crashing fiercely over that peachy flesh.   
  
Harry’s teeth dove into his lips and his back, his entire body tensed when the lines of fiery agony licked across his backside. It hadn’t drawn blood, maybe the tool wasn’t designed for that, but he felt the red lines break across his pale skin and his eyes watered. He would not cry out. He hated being bound, hated any chance of escape being ripped from him. Sweat slid down the bridge of his nose and his ribcage ached with his rapid breaths as claustrophobia set in. There was no way out…  
  
“D-Don’t!” He spluttered, gasping it out like a mantra to keep him sane. “I’ll do anything just don’t – don’t do that! _Please_!” His face contorted with self-disgust. _Don’t beg him you pathetic faggot,_ his mind sneered at him. _Don’t give him the satisfaction!_  
  
 _Anything!_ He argued with himself, anything to stop that fiery agony from striking him again.  
  
“That’s right, _Scar-head,_ beg me! BEG ME!” Draco growled menacingly, lashing him again. Harry arched forwards to escape the sudden pain (but it didn’t help) and the blows kept coming – over and over until it felt like he’d been doused with petrol and set ablaze. Harry yelped at lat, breaking his vow of silence as the raw, spiteful lashes bit into his skin, like teeth tearing open an already festering wound.  
  
“Stop squealing and be a man!” Draco hissed as he leant in against that red, bruised arse and slid his hand around the front to grasp Harry’s unresponsive dick. “Beg me… Beg me to stop,” Draco demanded again, his tongue darting over that ear and stroking along the subtle curve. Draco certainly did bring a new meaning to pleasure and pain…  
  
Harry tipped his head back, wincing in agony as Draco caressed his angry, red flesh with the tip of the strands of the whip, stroking him with the very leather than had inflicted such pain and it burned. A harsh puff of air escaped him. “Stop!” He demanded, his strength fading under the promise of endless torment. His throat felt tighter than ever, too tight for breath as he let his head fall back further. He was so tired and fighting for a way out only to find none.   
  
Another blow bit into his skin, slashed across his tender backside, again – and again, until he finally screamed. “P-Please!!!” He thrashed urgently. “Please! Stop!”  
  
Draco laughed at Harry’s pathetic attempts to get him to stop, and brought the red-hot tail of the whip along that unscathed crack, before swiping at it a final, spiteful time. Harry seemed to be weakening and Draco liked that – too much.  
  
Slowly, the Slytherin prised Harry’s buttocks apart and pressed the round end of the whip against his tight, virgin arsehole. With a sudden, determined push he passed it through the tender skin – skin that twitched erratically and burned as if fire-blown, broken glass was tearing at his entrance. He could feel Harry’s body clenching tightly around the object, resisting more with every merciless shove.  
  
Harry struggled against the thin, blunt handle of the whip as Draco pushed it against his burning entrance. He felt his virgin muscles stretch against their will, and fear spread through his stomach. “What’re you – No!” He knew he’d have to have sex with Draco and that thought alone had been vile enough, but this was… He let out a low hiss of pain as the object forced through into his body, settling up inside him.  
  
“You can’t fight me Harry,” Draco hissed, almost smugly from his position of power. Feeding the tails of the whip under and between Harry’s legs, Draco twisted it around his flaccid member, knotting it tightly so it wouldn’t come loose.  
  
“You fucking _pervert_ ,” He snarled as Draco stepped back as if to admire him, his cock straining and pulsing with hurt now that the handle was in his arse, pulling the tails tight around him. “Get it over with!”  
  
“Say that again – that I’m a pervert!” Draco ordered, those words turning him on something chronic when he whispered at the back of Harry’s neck, “Relax _Mr. Malfoy_ , you might just _enjoy_ it…”  
  
Drawing away for a moment, he unscrewed a large hook that allowed the device on which Harry was bound to spin so that his captive could see him. Harry’s face was still tilted sideways, and his eyes set furiously on nothing in particular when he caught a glimpse of Draco’s lust-filled eyes. Draco wandered back over to his table of torment and selected a slightly different object this time. Two large, silver spiked clamps attached to wires. They clamped together with a menacing _snap_ under the manipulations of his fingers when he returned to Harry.  
  
Harry’s head shot up, emerald eyes flaring with a mix of fear and fury. “What are those?” He asked warily, tugging unsuccessfully at his wrist restraints. “What the hell are you going to do with those?!” He demanded, each struggle driving the hilt of the whip deeper into his abused hole and tightening the strips painfully around his cock. He winced, his eyes watering as his backside tensed instinctively, a line of blood trickling between his thighs.  
  
“What are you going to do?!” He screamed this time, answered only by a knowing smirk before Draco pulled his shirt open carelessly, his head descending. Harry turned his head defiantly to the side, not giving the blond the satisfaction of looking when those lips caressed his pink, erect nub, lathing the sweat-slicked nipple until be began worrying it with his teeth.  
  
After wetting those perky buds and circling each one diligently with his tongue, Draco brought the objects up and pressed them open. “I’ll give you a perfect demonstration of what they are for, but don’t scream like a bloody girl…or I will punish you more.” Draco moved the clamps towards those nipples and held them there for a few seconds before finally letting them clamp down.   
  
“FUCK!” Harry screamed and Draco grabbed his hair, looking coldly into his leaking eyes when he repeated his warning.   
“I told you not to scream you pathetic _virgin_ …!”  
  
“Better a virgin than a _whore_!” Harry spat with venom, his retort answered only by Draco tugging the clamps and his nipples with them, until a shallow hiss tore through his clenched teeth. “Fucking – _perverted_ – prick!” Harry sneered, only to have Draco smile devilishly, his tongue circling the angry, abused flesh around his clamped nipples, pulling on the torture devices with his teeth as he drew back.  
  
“I’d rather be a _whore_ that gets his share of sex than virgin who gets nothing,” Draco laughed, continuing to tug on the clamps every so often. Malfoy’s slick tongue slithered up Harry’s chest and collarbone, along the soft flesh until his voice hummed huskily over an ear. “Do the things this _pervert_ is putting you through exceed your expectations of a loving husband?”  
  
Harry gave a hollow laugh, tipping his head back as his eyes watered, distorting his vision with a hazy fog of hysteria. “Indeed,” Harry breathed, “You’re not quite the limp-dicked tosser I thought you were – you’re mouthier and much…much more pathetic…” He saw Draco’s gaze snap up to him in fury, just as Harry brought his unbound leg up to send his knee crashing into Draco’s chin.  
  
The blond cried out and went flying backwards – little idiot could inflict pain but could not take it, Harry realised as he yanked frantically at his bonds. His hand flexed and his eyes flew to the pile of clothes Draco had ripped from him, trying to summon his wand. He strained, his veins _ached_ from his attempts but there was nothing. A low laugh from the blond stumbling to his feet made him realise then, that this room, or the restraints, they had nullified his magic somehow.  
  
“You coward,” Harry glared, “Can’t take me with my magic? You have to tie me up to beat me?!” His struggles renewed although he knew escape was impossible, anger intensifying at the pure bliss in those eyes, shining gleefully at his weakness. Malfoy glared up at him menacingly as he wiped the blood that had rushed from his mouth, and clumsily climbed back to his feet so that he could stare down his _husband_. Frustration at the man’s words rang in his ears.  
  
“Shut up! You prick! Don’t talk to me about being _pathetic_ , when this whole time you’ve been the one quivering like a broken child. _You_ are the one who feels nauseated in any situation that involves publicity or my family…”  
  
When Draco reached Harry again he raised his hand slowly and caressed the man’s smooth cheek. “You have a lot to learn. Don’t think that because you defeated Lord Voldemort that you know it all, because you don’t, _Harry._ I’ve _always_ detested how blind you are, how trusting and how painfully ignorant you have always been to others’ suffering, because your life has been _so terribly painful…”_  
  
He grabbed Harry’s head in both hands and forced his prying tongue over Harry’s resisting lips. When Harry tried to flinch away Draco pressed his fingers into his head with biting strength, forcing him to remain still.  
  
Harry winced, crying out in outrage as Malfoy’s mouth devoured his. That sickened feeling roiled in his gut as he was forced against those lips. He felt and heard Malfoy groan in delight against him as his tongue flickered into the cavern of his mouth, tasting the sweetness left over from the dessert and pressing more ardently into him. The fingers in his hair gripped him painfully, keeping him in place.  
  
His eyes tightened more determinedly, as if it would make it all go away, when those fingers traced down his sweaty chest to flick the clamp at one of his nipples, though this time teasingly – this time sending a shudder of wretched pleasure down to his bound cock. Sensing the reaction, Malfoy repeated the action, grinning against his kiss as an unwilling groan of pleasure was torn from Harry’s mouth.   
  
Draco reached down and pulled the leather around his cock tighter, the erect organ stood tall and purpling despite the restraint. He heard Harry gasp from above when he dropped to his knees, (breaking their _kiss_ ) hands still clutching the clamps when the tip of his tongue danced over Harry’s member.  
  
A luscious (undeniably pleasurable) shudder bolted down Harry’s penis and his body jerked against Malfoy’s lips uncontrollably. Malfoy grinned when he witnessed the first signal towards Harry caving, and felt victorious as he looked up, his face gleaming with triumph. “Told you that you would want me…” There was no way Harry would get away with such a natural, _inevitable_ movement (however unwittingly made) without being teased immediately afterwards – not with this husband in any case.  
  
“Hmmmmh!” Harry muttered senselessly, fear still making his body tremble (along with the unwanted ecstasy). “I will _never_ want you!” His husky words were broken and scattered, jumbled by the mouth attending to his weeping organ. It was disgusting. The lips around his sacred, untouched place were vile and live with venom but the heat was glorious – he had never felt anything like it before, and his virgin body was shuddering with manic palpitations.   
  
“You’re – you make me _sick_!” Harry insisted, “You couldn’t just fuck me, you had to humiliate me, _mess_ with me even when you know I’m–” A dirty wet sound cut him off and his eyes opened as the breeze stirred by Draco’s movement swept over his wet tip. Draco’s infuriatingly flawless back (unmarred by the subtle scars that scattered across is own body from the final battle) were all he could see for a moment, and he took the opportunity to regain his crazed breath. It was knocked from him again, however (just as easily as if Draco were swatting a fly) when the blond turned, the light glinting with dark promise off of the needle in his hand.  
  
“W-What’re you doing?” Harry gasped, hating the way his words kept coming out a shuddering whisper.  
  
Draco observed the needle carefully and held it up in the light, he pinched the rim of Harry’s belly button for a moment to see if Harry gave much reaction, but the man merely straightened up and clenched his teeth together. And with that Draco reached for a silver clamp. “This is the first step in marking you with my name,” He explained darkly, flashing him a piercing bar, a slender ‘M’ charm dangling from it. “Perfect for a _Malfoy_.”  
  
Harry’s eyes widened in horrified realisation of what _exactly_ it was that Draco was about to do.  
  
Draco clamped the cold metal around the pinched rim of Harry’s navel, tugging it taut towards him. Harry winced, not in any way prepared for it when Draco pressed the needle’s point into his skin.  
  
A traitorous wetness pricked Harry’s eyes as the needle pierced his skin. His lips pursed in the struggle for silence but he could not hold back the sharp scream of pain as the needle pierced straight through the flesh, replaced swiftly by the branding bar. He snarled as Malfoy drew back, flicking the new piercing slightly, so that Harry twitched.   
  
_Don’t give him the satisfaction, don’t cry out,_ his mind whispered as a mantra, _you’ve had worse._ He nodded slightly, his mind hazy with panic and fear, but the little hole in his navel was more degrading than painful – his magic would heal it quickly anyway. “You bastard,” he growled at Malfoy, revolted by the pervert’s breath over the piercing. “Fucking mark me like a _dog_?! Why not just piss on me you _creep_!”   
  
That devilish tongue slid around the bar, lapping at it until Harry spat through clenched teeth, “Get off me! Fuck me if you’re going to but stop messing around!” He was so tired of this, of the fear and the pain; he just wanted to sleep…  
  
“I will _‘piss’_ on you if you like,” Draco replied evenly, licking over his own lips when he heard Harry gag at his statement, “If that’s a special request from my _wife_ , I suppose it can be arranged..” Draco elaborated, teething the new piercing and yanking it sideways. Harry growled out in pain above him, and then Draco stood at last and unbuckled the restraints around Harry’s wrists.  
  
Harry stood there for a moment, rubbing his wrists although the leather hadn’t harmed him, and stared vacantly at his hands for a moment, before glancing back at Malfoy. Raising his hand, he swiped it hard across the blond’s cheek with a shuddering _smack._ His arm trembled with the force of it and he glared with shining, green eyes for a long moment. “Piss on me and I’ll _kill_ you,” he replied, deadly calm as he reached between his legs and twisted the handle of the whip gingerly.  
  
He winced at the burn, but tugged it determinedly from his muscles as they trembled, sighing with relief when he unwrapped his purpled prick and tossed the soiled device to the floor carelessly. He clenched his backside slowly, and flinched in discomfort before bringing his hands up to brush his shirt from his shoulders brazenly. “And I am not your _wife_!” He held the blond’s eyes carefully, confidently despite the fear churning his full stomach as he shed the remaining of his clothing.  
  
Draco seemed ready to lunge at him after the slap until he saw Harry peeling away the barriers of clothing and standing before him, not fighting, and with a defiance burning brilliantly in his eyes, even as he surrendered. “Get on with it,” Harry demanded quietly.  
  
Draco studied his body in silence for a few long, painfully confusing moments, before somehow finding his voice. “You wouldn’t know _how_ to kill me. The only reason the Dark Lord was vanquished was because of a spell backfire and coincidence. Not because you were able to use the killing curse,” Draco spat.  
  
With that aside Draco smiled saucily and unzipped his trousers before Harry, (almost as though he was giving him a show) leisurely stripping then away so that they fell to his ankles. He stepped into contact with Harry and forced him down by his shoulders until he crumbled onto his knees, his head now right at eye-level with the bulge straining against Draco’s boxers. His hips arched forwards, driving his pulsing erection into Harry’s face. Something in Draco’s silver eyes glistened darkly, sexily as he began to rub himself impatiently into Harry’s face, using his nose as a ridge to move his foreskin beneath the pants.   
  
Harry winced in disgust, drawing back slightly only for it to follow him, grinding into his face insistently. He supposed it had been too much to hope Malfoy could do anything without humiliating him. He considered punching the idiot in the balls but knew it would do him little good. This part was was as inevitable and inescapable as the marriage itself. That didn’t mean he had to make it easy for him.  
  
“Stay still,” Draco grunted, thrusting himself further into the knobbly features of Harry’s face. He took hold of Harry’s hair intensely into both of his hands to keep him still as he grinded his throbbing cock needily into it. He groaned out everytime the foreskin jerked against Harry’s features. His fingers entangled in Harry’s locks when he yanked his pants down hastily and his throbbing hardness sprang forwards and slapped Harry in the face. “Suck it, _Malfoy_ ,” he hissed.  
  
Harry blanched, deciding on how to refuse. When he’d agreed to this he’d been thinking only of the sordid ‘act’ itself, not all the extras Malfoy might cram in between. He struggled against the hold on his hair, trying to turn his head away, but when Draco’s grip held and the thick pink head pressed against his lips again he simply held his mouth determinedly shut.  
  
A hard tug on his clamped nipples wrenched a scream from his mouth – and he choked on the musky taste as the hot organ slid into his mouth. A dribble of pre-emission glided over his tongue and he shuddered as Draco made a point of rubbing it in. The nasty thing smelt clean at least, he supposed, but that small mercy seemed meaningly when the length began sliding back into his throat. His fingers clawed at Draco’s thighs, his eyes watered as he choked and spluttered on the invading thing. He couldn’t breathe! His fingers bit savagely into the blond’s hips then, in final warning before he scraped his teeth across the prick raping his mouth.  
  
“Argh! Watch the teeth!” Draco groaned out when Harry’s hot mouth forced over his purpling penis. “Make…make your lips tighter!” He pleaded when he began to thrust himself into that throat greedily. He heard Harry gasp around the large organ, but he didn’t care and only forced himself in deeper. He started to move Harry’s lips along the twitching foreskin – that felt unbelievably intense against the hot walls of Harry’s mouth. “T-Tighter you prissy virgin! Lips…tighter…!”  
  
Harry winced through the fight to breathe, through the assault on his throat. He loathed the way his tongue flicked up involuntarily against the pink head each time it drew from his mouth! And the way Malfoy moaned hungrily for more, fucking his mouth ferociously.  
  
The blond jerked his hips clumsily into Harry’s mouth, and deep into his throat again. “Hmmm,” he moaned out perversely. His cock felt enormous prising apart those slender lips. He tugged the boy’s nipple clamps and twisted them from above. Harry yelped around his throbbing essence, spluttering madly when it pushed forwards until it slipped past the resisting boundaries of his tonsils. Draco gasped when he felt the wet throat welcome him stubbornly, his back muscles tensing with all their might as he thrust into his _Chosen One,_ raping that mouth quickly, and using his grip on that hair to shake Harry’s head maddeningly over him.   
  
“Suck it, Harry, hmm, use more tongue…”  
  
Harry flinched at his words when Draco yanked his head more furiously, faster.  
  
“Suck it the way I told you to, prick!” Draco yelled, slapping the boys cheek roughly. Harry drew his lips against his teeth as he’d been instructed, wanting this over with, wanting to get out and not choke on this bastard’s cock! He sucked softly, (uneagerly) then harder as the cock bashed the back of his throat. An overexcited Draco pressed suffocatingly inwards then and Harry sucked harder, running his tongue along the vein at the underside.  
  
Draco gave an appreciative groan and tugged his hair a little before releasing him at last. Harry felt vomit creep up his throat at the manic, breathless smile Draco directed at him. “Hmm,” groaned the slytherin with venomous lips as Harry sucked off the end of his saliva splattered member. He gazed down darkly into Harry's emerald eyes and flicked his tongue hungrily across his bottom lip, teeth worrying the side of it as he threw his head back and tugged the dark-haired boy's mouth back over the end of his cock.  
  
“So…so… _good,_ ” he sighed deeply when Harry's lips touched the end and firmly sucked around the length with groans of his own. That throat felt even hotter this time when he pushed back in and the feeling was beginning to burn so bright it was _consuming_ him. “I need…need something more,” He gasped out as he looked down at Harry's backside perked out with the position of his body and vulnerable.  
  
Harry sat back, watching as Draco turned back to the table suspiciously. He was there for a few moments, as if considering but when he returned to Harry’s side, an ominous glint slid along the length of the old-fashioned shaving blade in his hand. “On your back,” the blond crooned menacingly, and Harry could not help the tremble that whisked along his naked skin, even when he glared obstinately back at his _husband._  
  
“What are you going to…to do with that?” He asked, struggling to keep his voice even at the sight of the cut-throat razor nearing him. Malfoy’s free hand pressed hard on his chest, forcing him down into the thick red carpet. He lifted his head warily, never tearing his careful gaze from the thing in the blond’s grasp, even when the other hand brushed something cold and wet across his groin. He did look, however, when the coldness descended between his cheeks.  
  
His anger flared, burning, white hot again at the sight of the white foam surrounding his pubic area – and apparently down his crack. He sat up swiftly, raising a hand to swipe at Malfoy, but the blond caught his wrist before it struck and stared fiercely at him, the razor glinting where he held it down low in his other hand. “W-What the hell are you doing?!” Harry snarled with anger, despite the fear throbbing through his web of veins. He suddenly felt very, very cold with sweat.  
  
The blond held the razor up high, to Harry's eyeline, in an almost threatening manner that suggested if Harry even began to fight against him, he wouldn't hesitate to cut or slice him 'accidentally' with the object (and Harry knew that). He licked the side of his lip and hissed at gryffindor to back down when he moved the object lower on Harry.  
  
“I can't be sticking my dick in an unkempt bush, now can i?” He sneered with distaste. Harry couldn't seriously think he would fuck something so disgusting, could he? Spreading Harry's legs as far apart as he could (with Harry struggling slightly to close them) he brought the razor to the foamed skin between his crack and pulled it down in a single motion to remove a layer of hair.  
  
He felt Harry twitching in his hand that held him apart, so he pressed his fingers in harder and whispered over the boys ear, “The more you shake, the more likely I am to draw blood…so stay still.”  
  
“Don’t!” Harry gasped in a pleading whisper, not caring how pathetic he sounded as long as that razor didn’t slice his skin – especially _there_! “Don’t, please…” Draco smiled viciously at the tremble in his voice and Harry turned his head away, his legs tense with the struggle to remain still. A spiteful lump tugged at his throat when he felt the blade swipe swiftly over the skin of his crack, then up along the base of his cock. His fingers knotted into tight, white-knuckled fists.   
  
His chest rose with frantic palpitations and his forced erection from before withered. It wasn’t just how dirty, or _weird_ the whole situation was, it wasn’t even the cruelty in those grey eyes, it was the fact that he couldn’t trust the person who had such control over his body. If the bastard could pierce him then he was fully capable of slicing his skin in punishment.   
  
_This must be the punishment for biting his cock,_ he thought as he braved a glance at the blade once more. _There is no way something as degrading and emasculating as this could be for pleasure…_  
  
When Malfoy (and that chilling razor) drew away at last, Harry glared between the now smooth, pale skin left in it’s wake and Malfoy. “So you want me looking like a smooth little eleven year old when you rape me?” Harry sneered.   
“Heh, you really are a virgin aren't you?” Draco sneered, only a virgin would make such a statement. He really had no idea of the sex appeal in such smooth skin, and the fact that a hairy partner repulsed him.   
  
Draco leant down to the fully shaved backside and moved his head in, breathing hot, steamy breaths over the tender thighs. He stretched his tongue out and licked down the them viciously, the heated air from his breath bringing pimples up on those legs and Harry's arse seemed to be clenching involuntarily before him.   
  
The blond leant in even closer, and prised Harry's cheeks apart, forcing out a hot gasp over the pink, twitching place. “Don't you think it's sick how your body is literally begging for me, even after I nearly cut you, _Mr. Malfoy?_ ” Draco asked. There was something very appeasing about calling Harry by his own name. Something that made him hard.  
  
“What the hell has my being a virgin got to do with _everything_ you say?” Harry snarled, resisting the urge to seize Malfoy by the back of the head and smash his pretty little face into the floor for _daring_ to demean him, _touch_ him. But he had made an unbreakable vow that morning, he couldn’t deny Draco his body even if he wanted to. “It’s sick that you’re _touching_ me you poof! The only thing my body wants is to get as far away from you as possible!”  
  
“Do you not like _faggots_ touching you, Harry? Is that _really_ how you feel? Does it _really_ repulse you because your body tells me the complete opposite,” Draco hummed, drawing his fingers teasingly up the back of his thighs. “And it means you're ignorant to everything – being a virgin, and I'm only proving that by showcasing the lack of understanding you have in this department. Then again, it wouldn't surprise me if you remained ignorant even after losing it.” At that Draco sneered and brushed his tongue back over that winking hole.   
  
“See, it wants me…”  
  
“Urgh!” Harry groaned out, trying to making it sound like a noise of disgust as opposed to arousal, but failing. He felt the revulsion roiling in his gut, but the white-hot pleasure was swelling. “Stop – stop _licking_ me there! That’s disgusting!” He managed out, despite the way his hips wriggled frantically in the foreign ecstasy coursing through his body. His cock pulsed eagerly even though his mind did not. He was _not_ reacting to Draco Malfoy!  
  
His virgin hole clenched madly around nothing as that tongue brushed around his ring, still tender from the abuse of the whip earlier, now soothed by the pass of saliva trickling over it. The sensuous circles around his opening made him cringe internally and shake externally, as heat gathered in his cheeks. He could not look down, especially not when his pre-cum drooled from his slit, and that tongue pressed into his sensitive hole. He gasped shakily, and felt Malfoy smirk against him as he tongue delved deeper past the resisting muscles.  
  
“Oh yeah, well if its _disgusting, and dirty,_ you should like it all the more shouldn't you, _Scar-head?_ Besides…” Draco's voice shimmered more seductively when he brought his chin up to rest over Harry's standing, drooling cock. “Your arse is twitching around my tongue like nothing I've ever seen before. I _know_ it wants more…”   
  
Draco’s mouth ran down the tip of Harry's cock and along the vein that sat at the back, all the way down slowly, until it reached the base. Harry wiggled madly before him, still resisting when Draco brought his hand up to fondle those balls tenderly as he licked around them and back under to the scorched, saliva-coated entrance.   
  
He fed his tongue in with spiralling licks until it broke through the ring of flesh that squeezed his probing tongue muscle, clenching around it almost _hungrily_ when Draco forced his way in, as deep as it would possibly go. He heard Harry hiss from above and he smirked, Harry could probably feel the smile against his arse when he began to feed his tongue in and out firmly.   
  
“Can you really deny you _love_ this?” Draco asked as he drew back for breath, knowing full well that whatever Harry replied with would be a lie. Perhaps he should have requested no lying as part of the vows. Then again, maybe not, he so enjoyed his jumbled protests…  
  
“It’s honesty, not denial!” Harry spat furiously, “I hate you and I hate this and I wish you’d fucking get this over with so I can pretend it never happened!” His voice was tinted with desperation and he shoved Draco back roughly, rolling over onto his hands and knees with his jaw set in determination. He didn’t know much about gay sex (or sex at all) but he knew where Draco’s vile prick was supposed to go and he knew that they did it in this position.   
  
“Just do it!” He demanded huskily, his eyes sliding shut against the whole world. He jerked when something soft and slender slid along his smooth hole, and hissed through his teeth when the wet thing breached him. It curled slightly, probing his untouched places. “What is your finger doing in my backside?” Harry sneered, ignorant to the true purpose of the invasion. The digit withdrew then, and Harry’s entrance relaxed for a moment, only to have two, slicked appendages slide back in. He resisted. He clenched against them, even when they spread to open him wider but all that did was make his muscles sting. “What are you – uhh!” His words cut off and his upper body dropped onto the carpet in shock of the throbbing, searing pleasure that erupted in his now slick hole as those fingers curled into… _something_. Something he’d had no idea existed.   
  
“Oh, so you do know where it goes after all? You're not completely useless then are you?” Draco sneered, arching his fingers in that tight backside Harry had just so willingly offered. His fingers curved and widened that tight ring so Harry's virgin opening was now prised apart. Draco's husky groans where stifled by a scream from the back of Harry's throat. But that only encouraged him to continue.   
  
“You didn't seriously think I was going to just get it over with, did you?” The blond laughed hysterically at Harry's groaning reply. “What’s the point if you don't suffer a bit first?” The slytherin hissed finally as he grasped the backs of Harry's hips and jerked his body back onto his own.  
  
“Feel that poking you? You're arse has been twitching for it ever since I tied you up,” Draco teased. He rubbed his cock up Harry's entrance madly, undulating against him.  
  
“No!” Harry exclaimed as Draco’s erection slid up and down over him, caressing his slippery entrance menacingly. “No – it hasn’t!” He was insistent, though the words he really wanted to scream (for his freedom from here) would fall on deaf ears. The thought of any part of Draco going inside him made him want to hurl his pudding up over the carpet. The pain of the whip being shoved brutally into his dry backside hard only hardened him on the belief that he couldn’t _possibly_ gain pleasure from it, but those fingers had touched something that make his cock drip over the crimson floor – if he got off on Malfoy’s cock raping him he’d go mad…  
  
His eyes clenched tightly shut as Malfoy’s hands squeezed and spread his cheeks for smoother entry along his cleft. He swore he felt the large organ dripping something hot and disgusting on him and he winced as his still clamped nipples were pressed into the floor with each mall thrust along his flesh. He hissed lowly, reaching beneath himself and pulling them free. His face rested on the ground exhaustedly, he already felt as if his body had been shattered but the worst had not even come, he realised as he rubbed his abused nipples slowly, wishing the vile piercing would come free that easily.  
  
“Liar!” Draco sang, as he continued to course his pulsing prick along that backside teasingly, a line of his own hot pre-emission bursting out of his penis and spilling over Harry's red twitching entrance.  
  
Suddenly Draco groaned deeply, and with a quick thrust he rushed his dick in and split that needy opening apart. He kept his hips for a few moments, as though he was allowing Harry to savour the taste of a cock in his arse for the very first time, and all of the splintered, blistering pain that came with it.   
  
“How does it feel to lose your little cherry, Potter? To have my cock buried deep in your bum?” He offered his palm to the air, summoning his wand and pressing it warningly into the man’s throat. “Don't lie to me this time.”  
  
“It hurts!!!” Harry screamed without reservation, wincing and clenching around the impossible thickness wedged between his cheeks. The wetness Draco’s fingers had spread inside him slicked the way inwards but his rim still burned as if it might tear around the sudden girth, and the fullness pressing ardently into his full stomach made him feel quite sick.  
  
He struggled to turn away from the pressure of Malfoy’s wand but the position didn’t permit much movement without Draco’s permission now he was buried in his upturned arse. He hissed through his clenched teeth again, trying to inch forwards away from the invading stiffness in his tender backside. “It hurts,” he admitted, more quietly this time, hoping to appease the Blond’s ferocity some. “Slowly – go slowly…”  
  
“Don't be so _pathetic_ , I'm not even moving yet,” Draco hissed as his member pulsed within the impossibly tight, clinging chute. He slowly drew back through the pained ring and allowed Harry to feel some relief before he rammed himself back in with a pitiless jerk. He vaguely noted a trail of blood leaking down those slender thighs as he pushed inside again, it drizzled down to the floor below and Draco smoothed part of it into the skin.  
  
“Hmm…” His eyes narrowed and the danger in them darkened, tinted with what was to follow. “The pain is a _part_ of it Harry, it will always feel like this at first,” Draco informed him, though that didn't reassure Harry any. Then again, Draco wasn't trying to comfort him.  
  
The bruised and broken flesh quivered around the slytherins huge organ, it was tearing his arse apart in a way, he never knew it could. Did men really get _pleasure_ from this?  
  
“Does the newbie little faggot want more?” Draco toyed with him, his leering jibes only intensifying the pain and the wretchedness of this awful experience. “Because that’s what you are, _Malfoy_ , a little pouf who is and always will be my fuck toy…”  
  
“I’m not your fucking toy!” Harry declared through his wince, his hands scrambling for purchase on the unhelpful ground. The promise of this splitting, grating pain every time Malfoy took liberties with him made him want to scream out in the unfairness of it. “And….I’m… _not_ …gay!” He gasped out between thrusts. The pain abated a little if he relaxed, he realised and tried to do so – _really_ tried, but the cruel lurches into him gave him little time to adjust and he felt himself still trying to inch forward and off Draco’s cock.   
  
“Poor little _'straight'_ Harry,” Draco mocked him, holding Harry's back down into the floor. Draco chuckled, his cock furiously punching it’s way into that arse again and again. “How can you know what you are when you have _never_ been with anyone before? Bet you've never even considered how good it can feel with a man, not that you have much of a choice now,” Draco laughed at that, all the time Harry had spent missing out on pleasure and the time to experiment, to find out what he liked – it had left him ignorant of his preferences. He could have left his virginity behind a long time ago, instead of keeping it now, since it meant nothing now. Now that Harry belonged to Draco, he could never so much as _touch_ anyone else.   
  
“Well, if you’re _not gay_ then it looks as if you will never enjoy sex, what a pity.”  
  
Harry cringed at the truth in those words. Hermione had displayed her pity for him missing out on something that was said to be amazing, and he had batted it away – carelessly. That jolt of pleasure that had swept through him from Draco’s fingers made his mistake all too prominent. He would always hate it, and even if Draco was _merciful_ enough to grant his pleasure he would never enjoy it. Sex would remain something dirty and disgusting and when Draco started battering his insides with harder thrusts Harry tipped forwards uselessly – his stomach didn’t feel very good.  
  
“S-Slow down!” He pleaded, in a last ditch attempt, the rawness of his arse and the uneasiness of his belly adding to create something quite unhealthy. His erection had diminished under the pain and he reached back to push against Draco’s stomach with one hand – but it was batted away quickly.  
  
“Slow…down, just…for a minute…” His words were gasping wheezes and he wondered if Draco heard them at all. “I’m going to throw up… And it…feels like I need to…to go.” He wasn’t sure if he would do either but it certainly felt like it and the feeling itself was nauseating – even if it would serve the bastard right if he lost control of his bowels while he tore into them.  
  
He hadn’t settled into the feeling in his backside yet, it still felt like it shouldn’t be there, and as the wet, slapping sounds crashed over his flushed ears he hoped he didn’t lose ‘control’ of himself or the punishment would probably make the nipple clamps look like a hug…  
  
Draco glared blankly at Harry's back and the feeling building inside his cock seemed to smother everything else and force him to move quicker. He distinctively heard Harry's pleads, but chose to ignore them with the buzzing sensation hitting the center of his swelling penis each and every moment that raced past. It must have been because of _who_ was below him, it must have, because it had never felt so good as this.   
  
“Too… _good_ ,” He groaned, biting down on his lip when he moved faster into the battered body below. “Come, on – c-come on Harry, move or something,” Draco breathed huskily as his tongue slithered out to wet his dry lips. “D-Do something…?”  
  
“ _Fuck_!” He screamed out then, as the thickness plunging into him, confusing his violated body (and reluctant bodily functions) caught that _place_ he had felt before. He flushed violently, wet, sweaty shivers skittering down his back. “Slow down!!! It – feels – weird!”  
  
That warmth spread across him again and his wilting erection awakened a little. There was an ache inside him but the burning friction had subsided, doused with the heated tide of something he dimly recognised. His entrance tightened hungrily around that cock and he shuddered as he felt every vein pulsing hungrily, waiting to explode. He wanted to reach down and stroke himself, or part of him did and the other part remained disgusted and sickened by it all.  
  
“No…use…use a condom! Or pull out! D-Don’t finish in me!” He did _not_ want Draco’s spendings sloshing around inside him. There was that infuriating, pleading shudder to his words again, the sound that made Draco chuckle darkly as he reached around to grab his cock harshly. Harry could not help the frustrated, unwilling groan that tore from his lips.  
  
“No,” Draco refused heatedly, stroking along Harry's neglected cock and cutting across his words. “I'm going to cum in your tight little arse and if you even so much as _think_ about letting any spill, I'll make you bloody clean it all up with your tongue.” The slytherin pumped Harry's organ with one hand and held his upper body to the carpet below, his thrusts quickening and his breathing falling into rapid, heady pants.  
  
“Besides, you’re tightening around my cock – you _want_ my cum, you’re _hungry_ for it…”  
“No…” Harry insisted, but his voice was beaten and husky with unwanted arousal. His backside was clenching madly as his cock throbbed – he’d never had anyone else’s hand on him before and even if it was Malfoy, his body didn’t seem to be too picky. The overwhelming, foreign sensations feathered along his damp skin until the cool pants of Draco’s breaths caressed his oversensitive neck and he felt his hardness stiffen unbearably, his walls milking Draco’s cock desperately.  
  
“D-Don’t! I’m going to…” He winced, he couldn’t admit it, but Draco’s vile laugh from above him told him that the blond knew. He was about to cum. “Get your cock out of me!!!” He screamed wretchedly.  
  
“I _won't_ take my cock out, you will fucking do as I say, Malfoy, and you will _take_ it,” Draco snarled, yanking Harry forwards so his face collided with the floor painfully. Draco laughed and his voice lowered dangerously. “Don't cum yet, not until I say,” He ordered, bashing his hips relentlessly into Harry’s. It felt so tight and needy around his cock each time he slid in and out of it, and it was pulling his foreskin back and forth with Harry’s impossible tightness, sending him into a haze of maddening ecstasy.  
  
Something was happening, and Draco felt Harry's own cock swell dramatically inside his fist.   
“Hmmm nnhh!” Harry muttered senselessly into the floor, cries of negation stumbling from him – hopeless as he felt Draco’s hands grip his hips bruisingly, and the hardness filling him, stretching him wide swelled unbearably, before exploding inside him. Harry struggled, pushing Draco weakly back in disgust – to no avail as he felt that hot fluid flood his walls. His hole twitched against his will, drawing every drop, convulsing madly as if it _liked_ it!  
  
He fought to get up but felt Draco’s hand (the one unoccupied by his own desperate, needy cock) press hard on his neck until he laid still, compliant as Draco’s now leisured thrusts pumped more wretched fluid into him. “Take it out!” Harry gasped quietly, his eyes shut determinedly as they stung with his body’s treachery. “I don’t…want it in me!”   
  
That devilish hand caressed his aching prick, twisting teasingly at the tip to make him cry out in pleasure that made him want to wretch. He was getting pleasure – pleasure while Draco remained in his violated, backside, while the blond’s vile juices sloshed inside him. _Disgusting_ , he berated himself, even as those jerks over his cock quickened.   
  
“Are you sure you want me to take it out? You remember what you have to do if any spills?” Draco asked darkly, his cock still buzzing from the explosion. He leant in and hummed heavily against Harry's bare back, “Besides, you're close to cumming yourself, aren't you?” With that Draco ginned, and Harry knew he was laughing silently behind him as he continued to stroke the organ firmly in his hand.   
  
“Spill your juices over my hand, _Malfoy_. Show me, if you're worthy of bearing my name,” Draco commanded when his strokes quickened until his arm started to go numb. “You can't fight it forever, you have to cum for your faggot husband sometime.”  
  
“No!” Harry insisted, shaking his head even as those fingers tugged his foreskin back sinfully. It felt so wrong and disgusting but his body was quivering with need. “I don’t…I _don’t_ …” He chewed his lip spitefully, every fibre of his body pulled taut like a bowstring. “I’m not…I don’t _want to_!” His final words were a scream as his body sang despite his misery and his arse swallowed Draco hungrily, while his cock spurted shamelessly into Draco’s palm. Harry’s body dropped uselessly, and he felt wretched tears prick his eyes. He blinked hard, his body shaking and he waited silently, for the next torment to begin, his body begging for sleep.  
  
Draco pulled out from Harry's arse with a splatter, the remains spraying over his back and over the floor when Draco got to his feet. He stared down at an exhuasted and trembling Harry, still lying there, shaking and quivering on the floor. Remaining naked, Draco grew impatient in waiting for Harry to meet his eyes and kicked him slightly in the side so he would turn to look up at him.  
  
“We can go to sleep now, I’ve had our bed prepared,” Draco flung Harry his shirt and turned away, almost as though he didn't even seem to care about what he had just done to Harry.  
  
Harry remained still for a moment, not trusting his voice as his body quivered with dry, silent sobs. He felt like he was choking on the very air slithering in his nose and he winced as his shirt fell over him, but did not move. “I…I think I’d rather stay here,” Harry murmured quietly, not looking up at him, but that foot kicked him hard in the side again, and that glare weighed heavy on his back. Did he really have the energy to fight anymore tonight?  
  
Slowly, shakily he rose to his feet, pulling his shirt over his body to stop Draco from looking at him, before scooping up his clothes (and wand) and following exhaustedly after the blond as he lead them into the bedroom suite he had glimpsed earlier. The trek back up the stairs was shaky at best, and he stumbled a few times (much to Draco’s disdain). By the time they got into the bedroom Harry had to lean against the wall to catch his breath.   
  
He watched carefully as Draco peeled back the fresh sheets and slid in – but that was all he did, watch. Did the arsehole really expect him to crawl into bed with him like a whipped dog waiting for forgiveness? After what he had done, not a few minutes ago? Harry shook his head in revulsion, his hand gliding over his uneasy stomach still. Everything ached and burned – he hadn’t felt this abused even after that final battle, where he had literally _died._  
  
Draco looked up at him with stern eyes, for the first time since they’d left his _torture chamber_ and Harry’s eyes widened in apprehension, wary of what may happen next. What did Malfoy want now? It was then that he realised that those self-loathing tears had crept down his cheeks and he wiped them away bitterly.  
  
“Don't just stand there,” Draco hissed as he ran his hand sexily over the silky sheets for Harry to come and join him, only to see Harry appearing more skittish at the suggestion and remain frozen in place. He turned over (almost sulking) to lay his side and flicked the bedside lamp off, plunging into darkness. “Stand there and freeze then, see if i care,” Draco spat, no longer facing him, his head sinking into the pillow.  
  
Harry winced as the darkness swept across his vision. He wasn’t scared of the dark, (living in a cupboard for most of his childhood had banished such trivial fears) the only thing he was afraid of right now was himself and how easily he had surrendered under Malfoys’s control. It hadn’t mattered that he didn’t want it, or how he struggled despite the pain it caused – nothing had mattered and he had lost himself anyway.   
  
The draft that swept under the door licked over his vulnerable skin and he shivered silently, his feet carrying him toward the bed without his permission. He cringed at the way his aching body wanted to melt into the silk sheets and at the warmth of Malfoy nowhere _near_ far enough from him. He didn’t want to be warm, he didn’t want to be comfortable here…  
  
Curling up on the edge of the bed, Harry tugged his glasses off and set them on the side table, before pulling the thin material of his shirt tightly around himself in search of comfort he didn’t deserve. Behind him on the bed, Harry heard Malfoy make a noise of irritated disdain, before sitting stiffly and dropping the duvet over Harry’s shuddering body. The blond seemed to remain there, staring at him through the dimness for a moment, before clucking his tongue irritably and turning over to sleep – ignoring Harry’s choking sobs.  
  
 _  
~To Be Continued..._


	4. Waking to Nightmares

[Four]  
 **Waking to Nightmares**  
  
  
  
It was still dark when Harry spiralled back from the blissful abyss of unaware. His lashes fluttered and his vision blurred as he rubbed the sleep and dried tears from his eyes. For a moment he forgot his imprisonment, but then the events of the night before came crashing down, like the cliff-face he had been clinging to so desperately had crumbled away beneath him. Harry winced as he sat up slowly, his backside throbbing menacingly. He surveyed the room, green eyes adjusting to the dimness quickly and he saw that the black-out curtains were drawn over the windows still – explaining why it was dark despite the fact that it _must_ be morning by now. His body ached like never before but he hadn’t slept so well in years…  
  
 _Probably all the torture,_ he thought bitterly as he turned his gaze over the slumbering blond at his side. _It tired me out._ Seizing his glasses from the side and sliding them on his nose carefully, Harry surveyed Malfoy. He looked so calm and peaceful without that derogatory sneer creasing his young face. Harry sighed, crawling out of the bed quietly and slipping out of the room. His body felt sticky and raw from last night – he wanted to wash those vile memories and feelings away, then maybe he could pretend they never happened.  
  
The bathroom of their suite put the Hogwarts Prefect’s bathroom to shame. The dark tiles glistened in startling contrast to the silver faucets. Along the side, through a wall of glass stood the shower (that looked like a room in itself) and Harry stared at it thoughtfully as he moved over to the toilet to relieve himself. The shower would probably be sufficient but the ridiculous sized bath looked too tempting. Trust the Malfoys to have a bath that looked more like a _swimming pool_!   
  
_And with any luck I’ll drown anyway and escape this mess,_ he thought, with a wince as pain rushed across his limbs when he moved to run the water into the bath. He gave a startled smile when the water ran pink, then purple and foamed as it filled the tub. He loved magic and could not help but _feel_ the magic of the water rush across his skin in soothing, massaging ripples. He set his glasses on the side carefully and sank down so that the bubbles sloshed around his neck.  
  
Every ache and pain felt instantly relieved and he could not help but wonder if maybe it was designed to react differently to every person’s wishes. He closed his eyes and sighed blissfully in his moment of freedom, before sinking down lower, totally submerged for that moment, so that he did not hear his _husband_ slip in through the door.  
  
Draco stepped over to Harry quietly through the steam and placed his hands on his shoulders, causing him to jump in surprise. He shot up through the bubbles and water splashed out over the floor. “I see you worked out how to use the bathtub,” Draco noted huskily, leaning in to nibble Harry's still very tender ear. The way Draco slid his tongue over Harry's lobe was almost playful, like they had spent last night like a happy couple of lovers, just married (even though they technically were) but Harry was anything but happy. And he did not enjoy yesterdays events in the slightest.  
  
The slytherin felt Harry tremble under his touch for a few more moments, before stepping back into the steam to survey him carefully. Slowly he climbed in the other end of the bathtub and sank into the bubbles beside his _wife_. “The temperature is pretty perfect for someone so incapable,” Draco sneered. Harry scowled back. What was he thinking, suggesting Harry couldn't even run a bath correctly?! Then again, He had just been surprised. Draco swished his hand through the warm, foamy water to grasp Harry's limp cock and started to fiddle.   
  
“Can’t I have a moment to myself?” Harry mumbled quietly, miserably, turning his flushed face away from Draco, one hand pushing ardently on the blond’s chest to get him off and the other yanking at the hand around his lifeless cock. “Malfoy, get your hands off me!” He slapped Malfoy hard but that only made the hand around his prick squeeze insistently as the Blond pressed in, trapping Harry between the wall of the sunken bath and Draco’s hard, ready body.  
  
Draco’s free hand caught the hair behind his head, holding him roughly so that he was forced to look into those eyes that – right now – he _loathed_ more than anything! “Don’t!” Harry demanded, “Everything still hurts from last night – you can have what you want, just let me _rest_ for minute!” The latter was a desperate, exhausted gasp. The retreat of the water was just one more comfort he’d been robbed of.  
  
“You've been resting all night,” Draco insisted as he gripped Harry’s limp cock in his hand under the protection of the bubbles. “Not to mention when you signed over your name and became a Malfoy you signed yourself over to me, as my wife.” The slytherin stared with stern, silver eyes at Harry, who only wished to be alone in the comfort of the water for a second or two. Of course, Draco would never allow him that small mercy. He shifted closer to Harry in the tub so that their shoulders were touching, only separated by the frothy waves of water.  
  
“Maybe if you hadn’t been such a spiteful _twat_ last night, a few hours sleep would have been enough to heal me!” Harry declared furiously, struggling and shoving hard against Malfoy’s shoulders – he was sure he’d never sworn so much in his life before this all started. “And I am _not_ your bloody wife!” He was aware he was screaming, just as he was aware it would get him nowhere – they were in a complete different _wing_ of the house after all…  
  
“Get your nasty hand off me!” He screamed, “And keep your cock _away_ from me!” He cringed at the memory of Draco’s cum filling him up, it was disgusting, degrading – and it was all he was going to get of that he was sure. The blond had all-but _laughed_ when he’d asked him to use a condom.  
  
“Fine,” Draco hissed, shockingly and to Harry's surprise, he stood from the bathtub, still dripping wet and naked as he flounced out of the steamy room, not even bothering to dry himself when he retreated to the bedroom. Storming over to the cabinet at the side, he yanked open the door, the hinges screeching in protest and reached in for a bottle of gin – and a little purple velvet pouch that he took round to the bedside table and emptied. The powdery white contents tumbled out. The once-slytherin lined it up neatly, before quickly throwing his hand back, then forward again to inhale the entire line up his nostril.   
  
He snuffled and chucked his head aside when the vile stuff hit his brain. The rush started to build and his eyes watered as his attention snapped back to his new husband still in the other room. “I'm out of your bloody way so you can have the bath you wanted so much!” The blond called back to him.  
  
“No need to shout.” Harry watched the blond whirl unsteadily to face him. Harry winced, he _had_ been a virgin and naïve of most of the things that he had endured last night, but he knew what he had just seen – he was worldly enough to see that. The Malfoy family had flaws like any other, but it was only now that he was apart of it that he could truly see the cracks in their _perfect, pure_ world.  
  
Harry held the towel tighter around his naked body uneasily. Malfoy was vile enough without being under the combined influence of drink and drugs – he hadn’t seen a wizard hooked on it though, especially a pureblood. _Malfoy must be more troubled than he lets on,_ Harry thought as he edged towards the trunk at the end of the bed that housed everything he owned, and dragged out some jeans, t-shirt and clean underwear. _No wonder he was all too happy to get a husband he can humiliate and control – it make his life seem less of a mess if I’m the one screaming and crying because he’s ruined mine so badly…_  
  
It didn’t make him dislike this man – this _boy_ any less, but it certainly lit the spark of empathy that was so easily touched. Not pity, understanding. He wondered often how his life might have ended if he had never been released from Privet Drive – the answer was standing right there, watching him with a dark look in those eyes.  
  
Harry raised his gaze to the blond warily, tugging on his white briefs gingerly, flinching at the lewd comment he was _sure_ Malfoy murmured about his white underwear and him not being pure enough to wear it. “Shut up,” Harry murmured dully, turning away from him and moving over to the bed to lay his fresh clothes on them as he searched subtly for his wand. He had agreed to let Draco take his body but nothing else, and with how the blond looked right now Harry didn’t want his only defence too far away. His hand searched the side-cabinet however, and found nothing. He turned to Malfoy suspiciously, his heart leaping into his throat as he saw that refined smirk at his _husband’s_ lips and his – _Harry’s_ wand in his open palm, the one not occupied with the refilled glass of gin.  
  
“Give me my wand, Malfoy,” Harry demanded stiffly, despite how he was edging towards the door. He could take his chances and run if need be, he wasn’t sure of Lucius but Narcissa didn’t seem to want to see anything less than honourable from her only son, and Draco seemed to adore her (and want to please her) more than anything…  
  
Draco rushed to the door quickly, just before Harry reached it and stood, blocking the exit. “You won't be speaking about any of this, to anyone. Do you understand?” The slytherin hissed, throwing Harry's wand aside and seizing his shoulders roughly. His hands clenched tightly around the joints of Harry's shoulders and squeezed, keeping him bound in that once place as his stern gaze faded to a blurry haze and he wobbled on his feet.   
  
He shoved Harry forwards with a jolt and pressured him back into the other wall with a thump. Harry wriggled under his grip but failed to break free when the blond leant in and began nibbling his neck roughly. He was all over the place, his tongue was flicking from one side of his collarbone to the other, and Harry knew instantly, something was wrong.   
  
“You… Y-You have to listen to me when I telling you, you’re not to speak of this – to anyone!” By _‘this'_ , he meant his little occasional taster of drugs and booze. Draco slid down Harry's front clumsly then, doubling over with his hand flying to his stinging stomach. “I think I'm going to be sick…”  
  
Harry startled at that statement, remembering all to well how that exact declaration had been answered when he had screamed it last night. Last night…  
  
It made him shudder as Draco’s body lingered near him, knelt at his feet in pain, incoherent. Harry ground his teeth furiously as he watched him, his hands curling into fists. Sometimes he completely loathed the confounded, _insufferable_ chivalry that lingered in his chest no matter how someone had hurt him.  
  
If Ron were here he’d tell him to drop the hero complex and let the ferret drown in his own vomit. Harry smiled sadly at that as he looped one of Draco’s arms round his shoulders and heaved him to his feet. This definitely reminded him of the wussy Draco Malfoy of their school days, groaning in pain in his ear. He winced at the struggle to pull him into the bathroom and dropped him carefully on the floor by the loo – just in time for Draco to throw the contents of his stomach up into the toilet bowl. Harry wrinkled his nose at that but did not move away – the idiot had taken drugs on top of alcohol, and though it was probably best he threw up, Harry knew better than to leave him there. He sat on the laundry basket quietly, waiting for Draco to make the next move.  
  
The blond’s eyes watered and his throat felt tight as he climbed up to the sink and ran the water. He took the glass he normally used for washing his mouth after he brushed his teeth and filled it with water – he had to get that taste from his mouth quick before he threw up at the thought of it. Reaching over for the towel he kept his gaze averted from Harry as he wiped his mouth clean.  
  
“I suppose under this pale complexion it's hard to tell if I'm really looking sick isn't it?” He ground out, running his hand through his somewhat ruffled hair and turned to Harry blindly, without really looking at him. “I think I took to much,” he murmured, mostly to himself, “I should have remembered after last time how sick I was…” He carefully walked back out of the bathroom and slumped back on the bed, holding his stomach as he reached over to the side to pull out a cigarette.   
  
Harry sneered. “You have a lot of occasional bad tendencies – you…you didn’t _taste_ like a regular smoker last night. So this is all…what? When you need it?” Draco shrugged, that was an affirmative answer though and Harry watched him carefully for a moment, the blond seeming to improve with the alcohol out of his stomach. His husband couldn’t handle the drink, and by the way he coughed as he inhaled, Harry assumed he didn’t particularly _like_ the cigarette either. It was all an escape, some people cut themselves, Draco was just hurting himself in other ways…  
  
“You’ve been doing this since the war, haven’t you?” He asked, his only answer that same half-nod, half-shrug. So the blond only took it when he was overwhelmed, or needed release. _As if beating on me and raping me last night wasn’t enough,_ he thought bitterly. “I won’t… I won’t tell anyone, it wouldn’t help anyone if I did – even in revenge,” he explained carefully, and Draco frowned as he breathed out the smoke, evidently revolted by the taste of it, but not stopping. He seemed confused by Harry’s graciousness.   
  
“Piss off, Harry,” Draco sneered, irritated at Harry's attempt to try and understand him regardless of what he’d done. “We can't all be bloody heroes like you,” He said, finally stubbing out the cigarette and banishing it from existence with his wand, before getting to his feet. He stumbled over to Harry, the side-effects of his substance abuse still making him shaky and irrational. A small snarl of irritation tore from his lips then, as he grabbed Harry by the wrists and pinned him down to the bed.  
  
“I may have all these occasional bad habits, but the one permanent one I now have is you.” He grinned at the repulsed look that touched Harry's face again.  
  
“You _stink_ ,” Harry sneered, “Of smoke and alcohol, get the hell off me!” He threw himself up, knocking the wobbly Malfoy off slightly and leapt across the room for his wand that had been dropped on the floor. He gasped in pain as Malfoy seized him roughly and threw him back to the bed, face-down. Harry winced as the blond pulled his arms sharply round to the small of his back, his shoulders protesting furiously.   
  
His eyes widened and his struggles stilled as the shock of a cool, thick strip of leather was wrapped around his arms behind his back. Turning his cheek into the mattress to look back over his shoulder at Malfoy, Harry flinched as the blond snapped the waistband of his underwear back into his body menacingly. “What are you doing?” Harry asked carefully, that suffocating, _trapped_ feeling swelling with the panic in his chest at being bound – again.   
  
Malfoy’s other hand reached under him, tugging his belly-button piercing teasingly, so gently that combined with the heat of his palm brushing his backside, Harry could not help but gasp at the pleasure of it. This was so messed up – _he_ was so messed up!  
  
The blond smiled, his foul breath dusting over the back of Harry's neck when he leant in, his naked flesh, hotter than Harry's, brushed up against that cooler area of skin – his hardening prick sliding along Harry's crack. He felt Harry shudder below him, still bound but not ceasing to fight against him, even if there was no use. It was part of his charm, he supposed.  
  
“And I haven't the intention to eradicate this bad habit yet,” Draco sneered. His voice lowered when he pushed away and rolled Harry over so he could see him. With Harry's hands bound Draco crawled up over him, his dick bouncing when he finally positioned himself over Harry's head. “Suck it.”  
  
“Are you kidding me?” Harry sneered, turning his head away in disgust. He clamped his lips shut tightly, but Draco’s hand fisted roughly in his dark locks, tugging his head back so that his throat tightened painfully. He winced as Draco rubbed his prick over his cheek, tapping his lips with it insistently. The fingers yanked his head back so hard it hurt his throat and he cried out, that thick cock he had got _all_ to close to last night shoving hard into his mouth.   
  
Tensing his jaw to bite, it was as if Draco had read his mind and he released his hair in favour of sliding his thumbs in either side of Harry’s mouth, keeping it from closing. Harry choked and spluttered, wincing at the humiliation of saliva sliding down his chin from his gaping mouth as Draco fucked him like a toy.   
  
“Don't even _think_ about biting me you homophobic prick,” Draco warned, forcing his dick in deeper at Harry's choked cries. “Now I said suck it, so you bloody suck it – like a child sucks a lolly, and show your _faggot husband_ how much you like it…”  
  
Draco's grin was malicious and crazed, and Harry wondered whether this was just another side effect of the drugs, it wasn't even ten secands before Harry found himself being tortured because he hadn't instantly done as Draco asked. The blond yanked and twisted on his raw peircing and slowly, but surely, he breathed the demand again.   
  
“Suck it.”  
  
Harry sucked slowly, bringing his tongue up to caress the tender glans under the pulsing head and above him, Malfoy groaned. If all those people that admired the precious _chosen one_ could see him now, being taught how to suck this bastard’s cock… _liking_ it! The charm with Malfoy’s initial hanging from his piercing tickled insistently. Draco’s hot, sweaty palm ran up and down his front teasingly, alternating between plucking his tender nipples and tracing the sensitive line of flesh that lead down towards his own hardening erection.   
  
When those fingers plucked his nipple again he couldn’t help but jerk and groan around the hardness in his mouth. His brow furrowed with self-loathing. He was getting off on _this_ – on torture! Tears stung his eyes and clung to his lashes as that cock pressed into the back of his throat and he struggled for breath, but he didn’t cry, that was the only thing worse than _enjoying_ this…  
  
“Hmmnn,” Draco gasped, Lips parting with a line of saliva splattering over his chin when Harry sucked his organ finally. “See, if…if you actually try, you could make a highly satisfactory homosexual,” He chuckled from above and watched as Harry's eyebrows pulled in at that statement.   
  
He moved his hips back and forth – using Harry as his fuck toy he jerked faster. Harry's mouth felt so hot over his dick when he moved around inside it. And his tongue felt like static when it brushed over his oozing slit.  
  
Harry flinched a little at the bitter taste but lapped helplessly at the tip anyway. He didn’t like it, his stomach churned with repulsion as before but his cock was arching up against his underwear with arousal and he squirmed against the sheets in search of friction. He sucked harder, his arms struggling in their bonds uncomfortably. His tongue danced underneath the pulsing veins and when the blond made an incoherent noise in his throat and Harry looked up, realising his mistake when those grey eyes leered with glee down at him – Draco _liked_ him looking up like that, his mouth and jaw stretched around his prick.  
  
Malfoy’s words stung, was that what this made him? The hardness throbbing against the boundaries of his briefs would probably contest that he was enjoying it…  
  
“That's right you little bitch… _suck it_ ,” Draco hummed, moving his purpled prick faster through those lips while Harry watched him. “You like what you see don't you? Hm?” Draco bellowed again, groaning deeply as every vein inside his penis tightened.   
  
“Yes! _Yes_!” He shouted again, taking hold of Harry's hair and pillaging his mouth like some kind of wild animal. His fingers tangled in knots when his foreskin caught on those wet, saliva coated lips, searching for more sensation.   
  
Something in Harry’s head sparked at the lustful insults being hurled at him and shot down his arching spine to his leaking cock. _Fucked up,_ he thought with a snarl as he hummed and swallowed reluctantly around Dracos stiffness, the vibrations making the blond’s body spasm with ecstasy. He was about to cum and Harry winced – he was _aching_ from _making_ him cum! He was getting off on being insulted and humiliated?!  
  
His hips were humping the dishevelled sheets, soaking the front of his briefs and he twisted desperately, revolted by his own eagerness. Abruptly, Malfoy yanked him off his cock, rolling the dark-haired boy (who could not believe the groan of negation that tore from his lips as Draco tore his erection out his mouth) onto his back. He turned his face into the sheets, rubbing the saliva off his chin as he panted for breath. Malfoy was leering over him.  
  
“Spread your legs,” The fair-haired man panted, highly strung and needy from the build of pleasure. He needed more right now, however, more than that delicious mouth. But Harry was taking too long to comply, so he ripped down those white briefs and tore his cheeks apart to lean in. He forced his tongue up and over that clenching hole quickly. “You want this too, don't you? I can tell you do. Beg me, go on, beg me to fuck your raw little bum?”  
  
“No!” Harry gasped, even as his hole twitched frantically around that tongue and his hips jerked backwards into Draco’s mouth. Something was wrong with him, he must have hit his head really hard on the ground last night – he was actually _thinking_ that the smoothness to his backside felt… _better_! Everything was oversensitive and hot and he clenched his teeth together determinedly. “No…! I don’t…want this… You _bastard_!”   
  
“You're lying to me, aren't you, _Malfoy?_ ” Again the use of that named peeved Harry, Draco could tell and he smirked as he tormented Harry’s sweet little place, twisting the tip of his tongue wildly around it. Draco ran his face along the shaft of Harry's cock and licked, running circles around the swollen glans when he finally reached the tip. Harry seemed to jerk as if electrocuted at the touch and Draco watched as his lips parted wide in surprise, his own unwittingly mimicking the movement.  
  
“You like that?” Draco groaned. “You're going to make a perfect little faggot, I can tell.” With all the patronising tones in Draco's voice he knew Harry was probably feeling even more irritated, but he couldn't help himself. There was something almost 'sexy' about watching him deny it.  
  
“Oh!” Harry gasped, his mouth wide, his eyes glistening with pleasure he didn’t want as he glared up at the canopy. The words spilling out of the blond’s lips, they were so… _wrong_ and it made his masochistic body shake with tremors. Maybe _dying_ that day when Voldemort fell had altered him, why else would his every _vein_ be dancing under Malfoy’s taunts and hurtful gaze – his _hate_?!  
  
“It’s dirty and repulsive and I… _hate_ …it!”  
  
Then that sinful mouth, tipped up at the corners descended hungrily over his length sucking him back into his throat – just as two slick fingers slid into his hot channel. The heat around his neglected, aching prick was unbearable, but the movements in his backside were slow, so slow and careful that he was starting to want it, and a strangled whine ripped from his throat as his arse swallowed those fingers hungrily.  
  
“Hate it…” He insisted breathily, even as Draco gave a vibrating, mocking laugh around his cock, the fingers in his arse curling deviously to massage his pleasure spot vigorously. Harry’s body arched and his hands flew down to push at Draco’s shoulders, tugging his hair unwittingly. “N-No! Don’t you’ll…make me…!”  
  
“Tell me how much you hate it and I may just stop,” The slytherin teased. “You're like a little virgin girl the way you resist it. I can see in your eyes that you want it and besides, the more and more you deny it, the more and more I'll force it,” Draco reminded him as he took hold of Harry's legs and shoved them backwards.   
  
He reached over to the beside table and pulled out two vibrating cock rings, one of which he rolled over his own cock and the other one over Harry's rigid prick. Harry gasped when the buzzing sensation tickled over the head of his penis. He had never felt anything like it. And the smug look on Draco's face suggested that it wasn't even the highest setting,   
  
“I hate it!” Harry insisted, clearly this time and furiously now the intensity of Draco’s mouth and fingers had been removed. He stared down blearily as Draco fisted his own, vibrating cock. He had a very clear idea of where that was going. The blond caught him looking and caressing his purple tip longingly, before rubbing the dripping head over Harry’s unresisting hole. Harry hated the way those eyes stared into him and turned his face into the sheets, panting manically at the delicious, vibrations slithering through his cock and tormenting the nerves around his entrance.  
  
“No… Condom!” He insisted hazily, but the laugh over his ear (closer than he had left Malfoy when he last looked) told him he would do better to stop asking for such foolish things. Draco’s hot, hardness popped in through his clenching, entrance, and he, Harry groaned this time at the stretching feeling as it slid into him. Maybe the blond had used more lube, or the vibrations were addling his brain…it felt good. “Stop it!” He snarled, even though his body said no such thing.   
  
 “Would you _really_ be satisfied if I stopped?” Draco hissed, pushing the head of his penis and the cock ring harsly into that backside. Harry's arse prised open all-too willingly around him when he edged in – gently this time, despite how Harry's hot pants only made him want to shove in deeper. “Hmmm, you like my cock in your arse, Mr Malfoy, don't you?”  
  
Harry shook his head firmly, even as his cock jerked madly with each vibrating tingle that overwhelmed his body from his own erection and Draco’s. “N-No! I…It feels… It feels…” He winced as his lower body knotted, tensing as that familiar heat swelled inside him. “Stop – I’m going to–” He cut off as he dug his teeth into his lip to stop that word from slipping past his lips – he couldn’t admit it…   
  
He didn’t have to.  
  
His body swooned and his cock jerked as thick streams of cum splattered over his stomach. The tingling in his arse remained as Draco moved, however and he cracked open an eye to see the blond glaring shamelessly down at him – crowing over his defeat.   
  
Draco licked his lips as he continued to jerk forwards inside the tight ring, quivering with the spasms of Harry’s orgasm. Draco pressed his fingers into the creamy substance sprayed over Harry's taunt stomach and smoothed it into his skin. “I want you to show me more,” Draco hissed, as he started to stab at the oversensitive prick once more. He watched as Harry's un-recovered member throbbed in pain when he started to pulse it again.  
  
Harry winced at the touch, grating his tender flesh. “Don’t!” he hissed, struggled to turn over, but it was impossible with Draco inside him and arranged so over his legs. “Draco, _don’t_ – it hurts!” Something inside him flared in warning at that – that was exactly what Draco wanted to hear. He wanted him to break. “I’ll – say it!” He gasped out, his shoulders burning with his struggles to pull them free. “I’ll say – I’ll say it felt good! _Just stop_!”   
  
“I didn't hear you, tell me that again, what did it feel like?” Draco hissed, as he stroked that flesh more violently in his index finger and thumb. He noticed Harry struggling below him and wriggling in pain, but it only made him to continue. He pushed his cock and the ring deeper and deeper into Harry's arse, grinding the backside with fitful gyrations when he switched the vibrating setting up with his wand.  
  
Harry wriggled madly as the vibrations shot through his body with greater vigor. It was weird, the sensations tearing through his arse felt so hot, and wet and good, but the movements over his cock only burned and seared like a blister. “I-It felt… It felt good!” He all-but snarled, his eyes scrunched up in agony. “I’ve…never..felt anything… _like it_!”  
  
That was it, give the bastard what he wanted, give him the truth, it didn’t mean he had won. Until Harry came to him, _for_ him willing, it was nothing more than casting a spell of ecstasy he had never felt before over him to get what he desired. And Harry would never, ever go to him willingly…  
  
Draco smiled, feeling triumpant, but he didn't stop. He was reaching a his peak now and he coudln't stop, as if the feelings inside his cock were forcing him to keep his hand fisting Harry's pulsating member. Even if it was oversensitive and fragile. He couldn't tear his eyes or his hands away from a struggling Harry. Making him break was only the beggning, but if it only took two days to admit he liked it, then it wouldn't be much longer before he caved in completly  
  
“STOP!” Harry demanded at the burning abrasion. “I told you – I admitted it, so stop!” Traitorous, burning tears pricked his eyes but did not fall. He could give up pride to survive another day and find a way out, but he was tired, too tired to fight and every surrender Draco forced on him left a bitter taste in his mouth. How long would it be before he just didn’t fight anymore?  
  
The rise of bliss was sending white-hot pleasure shooting through the centre of his penis and he couldn't help but move faster and faster. His hand squeezed every last drop that would burst from Harry's tender appendage, his own body tensing with sensation until he couldn't hear Harry's tears through his own groans of pleasure. The remains of the drug spiralled his head once more, forcing his mood to become more and more violent and he pinned Harry even harder to the bed, shoving his tongue into his mouth.  
  
Harry lay quite still and patient with his pain as Draco spilled himself in his backside, before dropping on top of him, breathing heavily. He fidgeted uncomfortably when the blond remained inside him, keeping his vile spendings deep in his body. Laying there for a long time like that, Harry fidgeted, trying to speed up Draco’s freeing of his arms, or at least getting _off_ him. He winced at the feel of that hot, stale breath in his ear and turned away in a struggle to breathe. The blond was bloody heavy…  
  
Every part of his body that connected with Malfoy felt sticky and raw, and his arse clenched around the load laying wetly inside. He flinched as Malfoy’s diminishing erection pulsed every now and then or when his heart thudded against his chest. It felt wrong to lay like this afterwards, as if they were lovers and this was something more than the proud, selfish blond taking what he wanted without consequence.   
  
_A fine mess I’ve gotten myself into, Hermione_ , he thought wretchedly, praying they never had to know he had ever fallen this far. It didn’t matter that he had not broken, that seemed a small victory for the price he was now paying. Despite the pain he faded slowly, into an uneasy, shaky sleep.  
  
The blissful escape, was short-lived as a shuddering knock echoed through the chambers, startling both boys on the bed awake. Harry winced as Draco peeled himself off of him with a start, yanking the top sheet over himself and bidding whoever it was to enter – having no concern for covering Harry’s dignity. A small,curious looking house elf popped into the room beside the bed. The grey-ing, blue-eyed creature gave Harry a sympathetic glance before he bowed low to both of them.  
  
“Master Draco,” he croaked, “There are unexpected visitors at the door – your mother would not have them admitted but they would not leave without seeing you… A Mr and Mrs Ron Weasley?”  
  
Malfoy’s eyes flew accusingly to Harry at that, but Harry looked more horrified than relieved and the dark-haired boy said nothing.  
  
Draco lumbered over to the door, opening it for Harry to walk through. Harry shakily nodded, grabbing a fresh jacket from his (still unpacked) bag beside the bed.   
  
On descending the stairs, they could see a red-head and a bushy haired girl standing on the threshold, still nto having been admitted through the door. The crimson-faced man Ron Weasley had become clenched his fist when he saw them approach, and instantly Draco knew to make his departure.   
  
Once he was within arms reach, Ron tugged Harry in by his shirt collar, whispering harshly over that abused ear. “What the _hell_ do you think you're playing at? I want you to divorce him right now!”  
  
Harry winced, every breath breaking his lungs, every cruel whisk of cold, bitter air slashing through the bruises and abrasions like sharp, spiteful teeth. He pulled back from Ron’s grasp, stumbling with the effort and the world twisted. He fell back against the wall, his backside tender from the abuse it had taken and turned his gaze to the side somewhere – unable to look at Ron in all his rage and Hermione in her… _pity_ …  
  
“Hermione told you everything?” He asked carely, fully aware that the Malfoys were still just inside the door and could hear everything. Though after last night and this morning, he wasn’t sure he cared what they thought. Ron nodded, his face set with fury – Harry knew without even having to look at him that his skin would be as red as his hair with the brewing anger.  
  
“Then you know why…you know…you _know_.” He knew he was making no sense, but the taste of Draco’s single cigarette still lingered on his tongue and he felt quite nauseous. Ron was close, too close to his bruised, soiled body. “He’s my…my _husband_ now. If I leave him we’ll all lose everything – if it was just me…but it’s not. I’m doing what I need to, to keep you all alive and happy, because if I don’t then the whole war, _everything_ was for nothing.” He paused then, risking a glance up at his two friends.  
  
They seemed frozen in their surveillance of him. The sympathy in Hermione’s eyes stung more than Ron’s seething, and so he focused on that as he gave an exhausted sigh. “Go home and play with Hugo for me. It’s not…” His voice trailed off. He _had_ been about to say _“it’s not that bad”_ – but it was, and worse.  
  
“I never belonged anywhere,” Harry said at last, bitterness twisting his exhaustion. If he could infuriate them like he had so many times at Hogwarts then perhaps they would leave, and avoid seeing the extent of his failure. “It’s not like I was sacrificing anything so fabulous as long as you were still–”  
“But you’re sacrificing your _freedom_ , Harry!” Hermione interjected, aghast at the martyr he had become right under her nose.  
“I’ve never had freedom,” Harry shot at her, his eyes dark. “The ministry have always controlled where I showed my face, they tried to control where I _worked_ – then before that Dumbledore, the Dursleys… I’m tired of it all. I don’t belong to anyone, I don’t _belong_ anywhere. So I may as well sit my arse here as long as it does the people I care about some good!”  
  
He pushed himself off the wall slowly, approaching the door, but as his foot touched the threshold he felt Ron seize his arm roughly and drag him back. Harry yelped in (accidentally inflicted) agony and Ron’s hand released him instantly. His eyes flew wide with shock and he looked between Harry and Hermione quickly, before lurching forwards and yanking at the jacket Harry had rushed into.  
  
“No!” Harry screamed, shoving Ron backwards in desperation, but not before his two best friends’ eyes flared with horror at the sight of the intensive bruises marring his body and the piercing. Harry wrapped the jacket around himself tightly, folding his arms across his chest as if he hoped that would give him some sort of comfort – it didn’t, nothing did.  
  
They were watching him as if he had gone mad, or as if he had just spontaneously combusted! Harry dropped his eyes to the ground when Ron finally found his voice.  
  
“T-Those…those marks!” Ron hissed, his ire flicking to gaze at the Malfoys still standing inside, not far from the open door. “How can you stay with him if he’s done this to you? It’s not even been a _day_! What is he going to do in a month – a year?!”  
  
“Malfoy!” Harry called out to the blond, still keeping his head low. He did not raise it, even when he felt Draco come to stand in the doorway. “I want to go back in,” he said simply, without raising his eyes. He’d be damned if anyone, least of all Malfoy and _especially_ not his friends, saw the empty, glassiness that had spread across them.  
  
Malfoy looked triumphant as he glanced between the once golden trio. “Which means you too can leave, _goodbye_ ,” Malfoy said blankly and slammed the tall standing door, so Ron and Hermione were left bewildered on the other side.  
  
“Harry…?” Hermione gasped, to no one in particular.  
  
Ron's fury rushed through his blood like lava and without thinking, his fists clenched and began crashing into the metal plated door, over and over again. But the prison was closed and Harry wasn't coming back, didn’t seem to want to…  
  
  
“I think you should get dressed properly now, Harry,” Draco said huskily, almost bitingly when they re-entered the bedroom together. His face was scrunched up, and he had this ashamed, disgusted look stretching across his features, one which unnerved Harry, who couldn’t for the life of him figure out where that expression stemmed from.  
  
Harry just nodded dully, silently thankful that Draco had relented, and allowed him to escape from the torment of his friends’ gazes. Hermione did not judge, she pitied, which was worse, and Ron’s eyes had burned with fury, and Harry was not sure that all of that anger was directed at Malfoy only.  
  
He didn’t say his thanks aloud, however, knowing full well when he had seen that smug smirk spread across Draco’s lips that he had done it only for the sheer, sadistic pleasure of owning him, of being the one to shut the door in his friends’ faces. _His head was probably swooning with the sound of me asking if I could come back in,_ he thought bitterly as he washed the evidence of Draco Malfoy off his body hastily in the bathroom, scrubbing until his skin was red and aching. He didn’t even bother to shut the door, there was no hiding in Malfoy’s own house, and he wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of trying…  
  
He did, however, delay the moment he would have to turn, have to see him lingering in the doorway of the bathroom, by taking his time to towel himself dry. When he could delay no more, he wrapped the towel round his body and headed back for the bedroom to dress properly. The shadow of the blond-haired vulture in the doorway, however, would not budge.  
  
That slick, arrogant smile crept across Draco’s lips and Harry glared stubbornly at him, despite his exhaustion, waiting rigidly to be allowed passed. “If you want something then tell me now and get out of my way so I can get dressed,” He demanded, but the bastard still didn’t move.  
  
“You actually don't have such a bad body, you know,” Draco offered smugly, looking him up and down thoughtfully. Harry's eyes widened and Draco was sure Harry didn't want to hear that from him, but that was all the more reason to say it. He swung his hand around Harry's back and pulled him in, gazing sharply, coldly, into those emerald orbs as he dragged him in close. And he laughed.  
  
“Well, on the scale of one to ten, I’d say you were a six.”  
  
Harry's sudden shocked expression faded to an irritated one. Draco was unlikely to give him a compliment that wasn’t a double-edged sword. What was he thinking in those brief seconds that made him flush?  
  
“And now your face is all flustered like a little girl, _pathetic_ ,” Draco finished, throwing Harry back from his momentary embrace. “No wonder your friends are ashamed of you.”  
  
“No wonder,” Harry agreed bitterly, “I did soil myself with _you_ after all.” He barged past the blond, smacking his shoulder gloriously into his chest as he did so – the pain in his shoulder was worth inflicting it on Malfoy. He snatched clean underwear from the trunk at the bottom of the four-poster and yanked on the clothes he had set out earlier without even looking back at the fuming blond who had followed him back into the bedroom.   
  
_I’m not looking over my shoulder for him every time, like a frightened child,_ he sneered defiantly as he pulled the t-shirt over his head and carded his fingers through his haphazard hair. His mind was still reeling from the indignity of that _‘complement’. How dare he?!_  
  
He felt anger and resentment lick up his insides like poison down his throat, burning him to the core. He hadn’t forgotten the humiliation of last night by _far_ , nor the modifications Draco Malfoy had seen fit to make on his body. He cringed at the realisation, that this was only the start of it.  
  
Draco quickly held his hand to his chest and groaned. _That kind of hurt._ He stormed passed Harry then, a childish tantrum brewing in his bruised ribcage and grabbed his jacket, stomping towards the door. “I'm going out!” He yelled.  
  
Harry went a little rigid at that. What was he supposed to do with him gone – what was he _allowed_ to do? He shrugged off the confusion and started dragging his clothing out of the trunk to put in his allocated drawers and wardrobes. “Fine,” Harry called back, adding with a quiet murmur only for himself, “Don’t hurry back…”  
  
That was the final straw, Draco was to be one to dish it out, but today, it was _Harry_ who was getting to _him_. He threaded his arms quickly into his jacket and hurried it on. “I didn't intend to hurry home, there's nothing special waiting for me is there? I may even do you the pleasure of not coming back,” He bit out.   
  
“That would be blissful,” Harry mused, but again, mostly to himself as he started hanging his clothes up – he could do it magically twice as fast, of course, but if he was going to be here a while there was no sense of rushing. He cast Draco a look out of the corner of his eye.  
  
The blond had said nothing about him being able to carry on helping Hermione and the Weasleys with the numerous businesses they shared, but it didn’t seem as if the arsehole was going to allow him anything that gave him a respite from his _husband-ly_ duties. That left him with a very large, gaping hole in his life – what was he supposed to fill his time with? _Lying there recovering from whatever vile thing he inflicts on you_ , Harry’s mind suggested cynically, unable to forget the tenderness to his body.   
  
Feeling the weight of Draco’s unbearable presence still, (despite the silence) Harry turned slowly, to see Draco still lingering. “What are you waiting for?” Harry sneered with aversion, “A _goodbye kiss_?!”   
  
Draco growled _“fuck off”_ lowly under his breath at that suggestion. Why was he feeling so easily irritated today. He felt frustrated seeing Harry's face light up when reunited with his friends, even under the circumstances, and the tingling fuzziness to his head still lingered. Menacingly slow, he walked over and grasped Harry's shirt. The indifference returned to the blond’s somewhat saddened face then, filling Draco's slate-hued eyes with amusement when he took his goodbye kiss.   
  
“Yes, I was, _Darling_. I wasn’t expecting to collect it myself but you will learn,” He hissed venomously, throwing Harry back from his hold.  
  
Harry sneered, spitting the taste of Malfoy’s lips on the floor and glaring at his retreating back, pondering all the things he could say before biting his tongue and turning back to the armoire that stood open before him. “Have a nice day, _Dear_ ,” he bit out, “I won’t wait up for you…”  
  
The bedroom door slammed shut then and Harry dimly heard the main door to their suite do the same in the distance. He was alone – at last. It didn’t take anywhere _near_ long enough for him to hang up and fold away all his clothes, and even less to pack all his other possessions into boxes at the base of the wardrobe – he never had accumulated much in the way of worldly goods, he had kept what he needed and that was all.  
  
That, however, left him with nothing to do, and he was sure Draco had been gone but an hour. He grit his teeth as he moved over to the windows, drawing back the curtains to look out beyond the confines of his beautiful prison. The endless valley of lush gardens lay far, far below _wherever_ his and Draco’s suite was situated in the Manor. It would probably put the gardens of _Buckingham Palace_ under question! He wondered (without really caring) if he was even allowed outside, but it mattered little. However large or grand or stunning the manor and its grounds were, they were all still a prison, and any prison where he was Draco Malfoy’s personal, _legal_ whore was an ugly place indeed…  
  
He smoothed his hands over the sheets and made the bed, even made his way into the _‘living area’_ and tried to read. After two failed attempts at _Quidditch Through The Ages_ and even a few tries at some of the novels Draco had left out on the bureau, Harry slammed the book shut and growled with frustration. This was the greatest torture, trapped in this place like a caged animal a the zoo, waiting for his tormentor to return and poke at him some more, though he knew not when. That was the worst, the anticipation, the not knowing when he would return and even then, what he would do. A daily schedule of the _Cruciatus_ and having his _balls_ trapped in a vice would be preferable to this!  
  
He paced, he didn’t know what to do with himself. What if Draco didn’t come back for _days_? Was he allowed to leave their suite? It occurred to him then, that there was nothing stopping him and he was worrying over nothing. Turning to the main door he tugged on the handle and opened it, jumping slightly as he saw someone in the doorway. “Err…Mrs Malfoy?” Harry asked surprised to see her here.   
“So eloquent, Harry,” she said coolly, though with a pleasant _liveliness_ glimmered in her eyes. She seemed different to Lucius and Draco somehow – perhaps not as warm as Mrs Weasley but still devoted to her family and family only, in a way Harry could not fault.  
  
Harry remembered her acts of bravery in the final battle, and even more clearly, how it was all for Draco. He offered her a small smile at that thought, at the familiarity of a mother who had sacrificed everything for her son, the way his mother had…  
  
“Umm… Can I…?” He cringed at his inability to select the right words, “What can I do for you, Mrs Malfoy?”  
“You missed breakfast and lunch, I merely wanted to inform you that, whilst we don’t eat together formally except at dinner – which is unarguable – you are allowed to summon the house elves to bring you food.” She surveyed him carefully a moment, her lips pursed with thought. “You are quite skinny, you must eat more.”  
  
Harry just nodded, what was he supposed to say? He was sure this was kindness in her eyes but he wasn’t sure how to react to her, as he was with Lucius and Draco. “Thankyou, Mrs Malfoy?” He tried, moving aside to stand by the bureau again, flicking through some old articles of the _Daily Prophet_ since Draco had taken it over, not really looking at them until he saw his name – again, and again. He swallowed nervously as he felt Narcissa looming nearby, and he raised his head to see her soft smile.  
  
“Yes, he has been a tad obsessed with you ever since your first year of school,” she explained and Harry frowned.  
“I don’t know what you mean, Mrs Malfoy,” he murmured politely.  
  
Narcissa walked closer to Harry and sat down on the armchair beside him. “His first day at Hogwarts, he sent me an owl telling me how he had met the _Great Harry Potter_ , and how furious he was that you were placed in Gryffindor. From that moment on, never a letter passed without your name mentioned, even in petty things…” Her voice trailed off then and she considered him thoughtfully for a moment, her kindness kindling to a room that seemed to him so cold. “I am not sure what it was, but it was not hate that fuelled the obsession, Harry.”  
  
That might explain the madness in his eyes and the sheer cruelty of last night – and this morning. Draco had been obsessed with him since he was eleven years old! He would be twenty-one in a month, that meant that the blond had been possessed with the idea of having him, or hurting him or _both_ for ten years – a whole _decade_!  
  
“Mrs Malfoy did Draco… Draco didn’t protest much when he was told I had to marry him, did he?” He asked, not entirely sure he wanted the answer.  
“To tell you the truth, Harry, he did not say much at all on the matter. The older he has grown the more closed he has become, but from a mother's point of view, I do not think that he would do _anything_ he entirely hated or was against, even with the consequences.” She smiled then, handing him a cup which she promptly filled with tea.  
  
Harry took it and thanked her, finding that an ethereal calm settled over his anxious, claustrophobic body. He looked up at her through his lashes and wondered how much she knew about Draco and what had done to him last night, and this morning. He wondered if she knew how he felt being here and a light that caught her eyes suggested she knew more than she would ever admit. He was sure, so _very_ sure that she had spiked his tea with some sort of calming potion, but wouldn’t voice that suspicion aloud.  
  
“You love your son, Mrs Malfoy,” Harry murmured, it had been a thought, not something he had meant to voice – the calmness was relaxing him to the point of a daze. It was as if someone were wrapping a warm blanket around his aching soul and caressing him until he gave in. He was suddenly quite drowsy. He hadn’t felt this peaceful since… _I have never felt this relaxed,_ he realised, noticing that he was swaying slightly on his feet. He was sure a reincarnated _Voldemort_ could walk through the door and he would only manage a dazed, blissful smile.   
  
“Why are you trying to make this…easier for me?” Harry asked, even as she was guiding him towards the bedroom door, it was on the threshold that she left him, and offered a small, considering smile.   
“Perhaps I think that you may do my son some good,” she said simply, before taking the tea-cup from him and setting it on the side. “It will be expected of you to join us for dinner, that is, as I have said, an inescapable ritual, but Draco will not be back for some time, I suggest you rest.”  
  
There was a sadness in her eyes and a sympathy in her voice that, while it soothed his already relaxing body, unnerved him a little also. She knew what Draco was up to? He wondered, even as he nodded politely to her and walked into the bedroom. He heard the door shut softly and moved across to kick his clothes carelessly from his body, each move was sloppy, almost _drunk_ with the exhaustion that the relaxation inspired. It took him so long to pull his pyjama shirt over his head that he gave up on the trousers and crawled under the (somehow cleaned) sheets wearing only the shirt and his underwear.  
  
He set his glasses on the side and his head hit the pillow, his mind going blissfully blank. The bed was so comfortable and the duvet felt nice and heavy, like a warm embrace around his shattered body. Everything was soft and gentle. He felt his eyelids drop and that was the last he knew before sleep took him.  
  
 _  
~To Be Continued..._


	5. A Devilish Smile

[Five]  
 **A Devilish Smile**  
  
  
  
Narcissa Malfoy had said _some time_ – Harry didn’t know how long ‘some time’ was but when he began to stur from his slumber, he didn’t feel nor see the sun’s light on his eyelids. His eyes fluttered, still half asleep and all he saw was the darkness beyond the open windows, it was night time. If he had been awake enough it may have registered that he was expected for dinner downstairs at some point, but he was half lost in the dream of the warm arms and the soft, gentle hands stroking his hair, sweet breath in his flushing ear. He dozed off again, rolling onto his belly to rub his dream-induced erection into the covers.  
  
He didn’t hear anything, he didn’t see or _feel_ anything in his blissful escape. That was, until a harsh grip seized his shoulders an flipped him roughly onto his back. Harry gasped, crying out as he was torn from his sleep. He struggled against the arm that held him, that pinned him by chest spitefully to the bed. He blinked sleepily upwards, making out a hazy blur of blond hair. Evidently _some time_ was up, and Draco was back.  
  
“What the fuck are you _doing?_!” Harry snarled, reaching for his glasses on the side-table, but when he tried Draco pressed harder on his chest, so that it felt like his ribs might break! “Stop it – you’re hurting–” He was cut off as Draco knelt over his chest, holding him there by closing his thighs tightly around his body, the fingers of his now free hand shoving roughly into Harry’s mouth keep it open. Harry winced as he heard Malfoy groan in a telltale manner and tensed in dread as he felt hot, sticky semen splash over his face and into his open mouth.  
  
The smooth head of Draco’s cock slid over his lips teasingly, cleaning his spendings off on his mouth. Harry blanched, sickened by the smell and the feel and the _taste_. He bolted upright the second Draco moved away, wiping his face furiously as he reached for the side – for his wand. It was not there. A growl of frustration tore from his mouth and he snatched up his glasses instead, sliding them on his nose to better search for it, but his wand was nowhere in sight. Instead, he looked up to Malfoy, his mouth opening to hurl abuse, but whatever he was about to say stuck in his throat as he realised he wasn’t alone in the room.  
  
The two giggling voices from over Draco’s shoulder caught Harry’s attention. Two girls stood naked beyond Draco. _A couple of his whores_ , Harry thought instantly with the first look. Both of them moved closer to Draco and began laying wet, meaningless kisses over his cheeks, running there painted finger nails over his torso. The blond smiled. Harry looked horrified.   
  
Draco turned to the side and kissed the girl to the left of him, the one with the long, dirty-blonde ringlets and then back to the brunette on his right. Kissing women looked so different, he was gentle and kind, none of the things he gave Harry when he’d forced their lips together…  
  
“So, sleepy head, have a nice dream?” One of the girls asked, rather cutely actually. Harry just grunted at her in revulsion.  
  
He flushed darkly at the way they were eyeing him as well as Draco, while they stretched themselves along the blond’s body like a pair of cats. Perhaps he would not have been so quick to judge, if they were not in his bedroom crawling all over a married man, and he, Harry (the spouse) quite obviously _not_ wanting him there. He felt sickened as he watched their hands and mouths slide over Draco’s skin. Something ugly, and _wrong_ knotted in his stomach, creeping up his throat, hot, bitter and revolting like bile.  
  
“Get out,” he snarled at the two girls, rather than Draco. “Get out!” By Merlin, this emotion, he’d felt it but a few times before but _never_ with this ferocity. Maybe the intensity of this…whatever this was between them increased it’s fury, but he couldn’t bear it. He didn’t love Malfoy, he didn’t even _want_ him but seeing these women practically writhe over his skin like maggots made him dizzy and sick with… _jealousy._ Perhaps if he weren’t so messed up, so thoroughly _fucked in the head_ from last night, from losing his virginity in the most brutal, vile way at the hands of this man, perhaps if they weren’t so distinctly rubbing it in his face he would not feel this burning feeling. The reasons meant little, since he _was_ feeling it regardless, all-too potently.  
  
When they simply leered at him Harry flew to his feet, only to have Malfoy shove him roughly to the bed. “Your vows say that I have to give you my body, it doesn’t say that I have to watch you fuck your whores. I don’t have to watch this, and I _won’t_!”  
Malfoy’s lips twisted with a smirk. He was getting a reaction out of Harry, a very powerful, delicious reaction indeed. That was much better than the resigned look of impassiveness he had glimpsed on their wedding day…  
  
The sly slytherin pulled out his wand and aimed it at the door, locking it with a swift charm – now Harry had no escape without his wand. Draco shrugged the women off then and climbed seductively over the bed towards Harry, who fought like a caged tiger as he pinned him there. The foreboding smile never faded from the blond’s lips.  
  
He craned his neck and licked leisurely over Harry's naked torso. Harry shivered, but refused to give in and cry out, even when Draco's tongue hurried over those dusty nipples and sucked. The two whores beside him shuffled closer and sat on the bed next to him. Naked as they were, they started to rub themselves distractedly before drifting to Draco and beginning to undress him.   
  
Harry winced as Draco’s mouth dipped down his sternum, tugging at his navel piercing teasingly until Harry gasped. He had to let Draco have him, when he wanted, wherever he wanted, he had _sworn_ it, and whilst he didn’t have to watch Malfoy play with his hired toys, he _did_ have to stay if Malfoy wanted to use him. He cringed at the thought, longing for the blissful state of unaware the bastard had ripped him from.   
  
“I don’t… For Heaven’s _sake_! You had me last night and this morning! How can you possibly want it again already?!”  
  
Malfoy merely smirked against his skin, dipping his tongue into his bellybutton before descending to breathe heavily over the unresponsive area beneath Harry’s underwear. He wasn’t reacting in that way at least, not yet…  
  
Despairing at the stinging at the back of his eyes, Harry hissed in anguish, shoving Malfoy back from his body. “No!” He snarled, crawling as far up the headboard as he could go. “I’m not – I won’t! I’m not one of your sluts! I fuck you because I have to, but that’s all it is! I’ll never want you – and I’ll never do _this_!” He gestured to the two girls who seemed positively intoxicated by Draco’s need to force him to cooperate. Harry sneered, what type of perverts had Malfoy picked up?! _Sick enough people to want to share in raping his husband,_ his mind supplied bitterly.  
  
The two girls walked either side of Harry and restrained his hands before magically conjuring a thick, silky cord and tying his wrists to the headboard. Harry struggled, snarled but couldn’t break free, still dazed and half asleep from the relaxation draught Narcissa had innocently given him. He was to weak to break free, but that didn’t stop him giving a bloody good try. Draco’s smile intensified when the girls bound him to the bed.  
  
“What a cute belly-button piercing,” The blond girl hummed when she ran her hand over Harry’s t-shirt, and underneath.  
  
Draco turned to retrieve the box that sat at the end of the bed and opened it, pulling out his ‘piercing kit’. His grey, foreboding eyes stared devilishly into Harry’s.  
  
“W-What are you doing?” Harry gasped, his eyes wide as he struggled against his bonds. One of the girls slid her hand over his nipple, pinching teasingly while the other caressed his navel piercing gently. He winced at the feel of those smooth hands over him, it felt weird, and Draco’s steel-grey eyes piercing his soul as he approached only made him shudder in apprehension of what was to come.   
  
Suddenly, one of the girl’s hands descended over his limp cock and he snarled in humiliation at her fondling him. “Stop! Get the hell off me!” He sneered at her, instead of Draco this time, but when he looked back to Draco, the ominous glare had faded into something. Draco didn’t seem to want these girls touching his body anymore than was required…  
  
“Stop that!” Draco shouted at the girl, who stopped suddenly when he spoke. “Don’t touch him unless I say so…” He hissed, and both girls stood back slightly. He handed them both a needle and clamp, along with thin, silver rings. Draco crawled over Harry and breathed heavily over his cock through the material of his trousers. Harry felt a sharp pinching on both of his nipples – there was so much happening around him at once he could barely keep track of them all.  
  
The cold metal sent chills all over Harry’s stomach but it mixed with the heated feeling from below and it confused him. “I’m gonna show you what is meant by pain for pleasure, Mr _Malfoy_ ,” Draco grinned.   
  
“Don’t!” Harry gasped out, his voice quiet and wavering. He winced at the _obvious_ events that were about to occur, and at sickening, plummeting sensation in his gut as he realised – he was relieved that those girls weren’t touching the bastard anymore. _So fucked up_ , Harry heard his mind whisper…  
  
“Malfoy – Draco, don’t! I’ll do whatever you…” He chewed his lip, holding onto his begging as long as he could, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. “Get rid of them you _twat_!” He whispered, his words dancing across Draco’s lips as they hovered but a hairsbreadth from his own. Harry scanned the blond’s face, seeing the wicked thoughts reeling behind those eyes as his wide, green gaze studied him carefully. Humiliation coloured his cheeks and he waited, his breaths coming out in pants as he waited for Draco to answer.  
  
“So you don’t mind the clamps on your nipples, but when two beautiful girls are involved, you really don’t want to know? You’re more of a pouf then I thought,” Draco teased, and nodded for the girls to begin.   
  
Slowly, the girl on the left of him pressed the pointed needle into the skin of Harry’s hard, tan nub. The sharp tip pierced slowly through the skin and Harry screamed when she yanked and forced it through the unwilling flesh. Blood rushed and trickled down from the wound, a shining, platinum bar now sitting through the middle of his nipple, sending jerks of intimate pain through his chest.   
  
Harry was breathing heavily, the laboured pants all but stifled by the sound of Draco’s chuckling.   
  
“Argh! No!” Harry screamed, turning his head away from where blood wept from the wound, and another needle was pressing into his other one. He panicked. He felt his body stiffen, he felt Draco’s breath over his skin and his eyes fixed on that storm-grey gaze. “Why are you doing this to me?” He panted, unable to tear his eyes away.  
  
“Because I enjoy it..” Draco said simply. “That’s why.” His smirked broadened when the woman on the right side continued the same process on his remaining nipple. Draco hummed hotly over Harry’s wilting member through the thin material of his briefs. A tormenting, _agonising_ moment passed then, before Draco rushed Harry’s underwear down to mid-thigh and suckled the tip of his retreating hardness.  
  
Harry’s hips arched in a mixture of pleasure in pain as the needle pierced his nipple the second Malfoy’s hot, wet mouth closed around his throbbing prick head. Harry gasped before he could save himself, not sure he was feeling more pleasure than pain. He hated the way his eyes kept lingering over the pink, pouting lips lapping at his cock, or the way Malfoy’s cheeks hollowed when he sucked him into his throat.   
  
Was he only finding it so fascinating, so irresistible because he’d so recently been a virgin? Or was this normal? He blinked hard, turning his head distinctively away when Malfoy peered up at him smugly from beneath his lashes. Harry’s cheeks flushed and closing his eyes when he saw Malfoy smirk around his erection and the vibrations of his mocking laughter carried through his pulsing flesh.  
  
Draco glazed the swollen tip generously with spittle, causing Harry to frantically arch further into his mouth. _He likes it, he actually_ likes _me sucking his little cock,_ Draco noted deviously.  
  
At the side, almost forgotten, the brunette woman started to rub her fingers over her nipples. Carefully her finger swirled around the pink bud and she groaned slightly. She could practically _feel_ her juices running down her inner thigh when she leant over Draco for another touch of his well toned torso. Harry shot bolt upright on the bed, a furious look seizing his features.  
  
Draco half sneered, half smiled when he heard Harry groan “ _stop_ ” under his breath once more – he couldn’t help but feel amused at the _jealous wife_ image. Harry was so up tight. This surely was quashing his fragile sensibilities, yanking him harshly from his comfort zone (if he even had one).  
  
“Is Mr Malfoy feeling left out?” Draco asked huskily, when the other woman reached around, her fine fingers stroking along his member. “What a shame…” Draco purred, as if Harry’s expression told him everything he needed to know.  
  
Harry sneered, not knowing whether to be pleased that the attention had diverted from his humiliated body or not. That fiery jealousy was burning in his chest again. He turned his head to the side, looking away from the scene with a bitter taste in his mouth. Why did he want the bastard’s body and attention away from everyone else so desperately?   
  
_Because all that adolescent misery has driven you barmy, just like Ron said,_ Harry thought. He jumped when a hot hand slid over his stomach. His gaze lifted to see one of the girls sliding her fingers over his own torso, her other hand clenched into a fist around Draco’s locks, her mouth assaulting his hungrily. Harry sneered at the sight, moving to turn his head away once more, but the girl’s fingers tugged at his freshly pierced nipples and he gasped, glaring in furious confusion at her.  
  
“Don’t turn your pretty face away, baby,” she cooed, her eyes tracing his naked torso. Harry watched her and then Draco and his whore for a moment, before smiling broadly. He raised his leg swiftly, knocking the girl caressing him forwards onto his body. She giggled and he was sure to throw a smirk over her shoulder at Draco – who was distinctly watching now.   
  
Her mouth was too wet and too… _everywhere_. Harry didn’t have much experience but he’d had enough the last… _day_ to know it felt a little gross. The girl panted over his mouth, her teeth clashing with his, but it had the same effect, Draco looked livid.  
  
“Stop!” Draco gasped. He threw the brunette clinging to him aside and rushed over to the blond who had her hands all over Harry. He seized her arm roughly and ripped her away from his husband’s body. Both women looked at Draco in shock, frozen still in fear of the furious flame burning in his eyes.  
  
He sighed exasperatedly, as if every touch they had laid on _his husband_ had left a searing mark on his own flesh. Bolting from the bed, he shoved them unceremoniously towards the door. “Get out – get out of my house! Have the bloody elf escort you off my property! GET OUT!” The slytherin bellowed and both women hurried out the door, their clothes clutched to their bare chests.  
  
Draco huffed in indignation, slamming the bedroom door so hard the walls trembled, before approaching the bed again. As casually as if Harry were invisible to him.Perching on the edge of the mattress, he slumped forwards and rested his head in his hands – massaging his temples.  
  
“What a pain. I tell them no and they touch you anyway… _women_ ,” Draco sighed, looking sideways over his shoulder at Harry (still bound, but leaning on his arms to support himself a little better) and smiled devilishly. “You have no idea how sexy you look…pathetic, but sexy,” Draco admitted. Harry’s eyes widened at the abrupt announcement.   
  
“W-What?” Harry asked, his smugness at getting to Malfoy wavering at the evident complement in that statement. He shifted uncomfortably back against the headboard, closing his legs as Draco stared at him. There was a look in those eyes that had him beyond confused. It was quite obvious the blond wanted him to himself, at _his_ mercy, so why pull such a stunt in the first place?  
  
“Thanks for the wake-up call,” Harry murmured sarcastically, tugging at the ropes holding him to the bed slightly. “I was having such a nice dream as well…”  
  
Draco gave him that part smile. “But it was such a beautiful awakening, don’t you think?” Draco asked, genuinely, like he was serious. He watched Harry cringe and his smirk broadened. “Surely my cum isn’t that disgusting?” Draco began, “I can think of _far_ worse flavours.”  
  
Harry remained silent at that.  
  
“How about we doublecheck, to see if I taste that bad?” Draco snarled, climbing back over Harry with his dick hanging down, dragging over Harry’s taut stomach as he moved. “Besides, I know you want me, and even if you won’t admit it, your _not-so-tight_ little arsehole can’t help but twitch for me whenever I’m near, can it?”  
  
How was he so proud, so full of it, so confident? He was so up himself it was unreal!  
  
“Come on admit it _Scarhead,_ you want me, you want to _feel_ me inside you, spreading you open – riding you raw–”  
“You have a very wishful imagination,” Harry spat in disgust, his leg shooting upwards, aiming for Draco’s groin. The blond caught his leg before it struck, spreading his thighs and climbing between them. Harry pulled against the bonds, arms taut with tension. “Get off me!” Harry snarled, “I don’t fucking _want_ you and I don’t want to play these masochistic torture games anymore!”  
  
Above him, Malfoy smirked, his mouth descending over Harry’s. The dark-haired boy turned away at the last second, avoiding the kiss. “I agreed to fuck you, when you want, but it doesn’t say I have to play twisted bondage games with you!”  
  
“It says I get you whenever I want, wherever I want, _however_ I want, so actually, yes you do have to play these sick games of mine, until I’m fulfilled and satisfied,” Draco said smugly. “But you know, if you actually relaxed a little, you might find you like it more then you think,” He teased. And Harry just looked disgusted.   
  
“Besides, your cock always feels so tense in my hand. Don’t you agree?” Draco purred, rubbing his hand slowly along the thick length. Inclining his head, held that gaze as he sniffed mockingly at Harry’s organ. He smelt of sex. “Smells repulsive, yet I can’t keep away when it wants me so much,” he laughed darkly. “You stupid little faggot in denial…beg me…” Draco began, “Beg me until I let you cum so hard it hurts. Beg me to end your torture, your pitiful delusions of right and wrong. Of pleasure and pain. Tell me how wonderful I am…”  
  
Draco plucked up the needle that was sitting on the beside table and carefully drew it over the vein in the back of Harry’s penis. With no intention of piercing him again and every intention of watching him squirm. A rush of thrill burst through his veins like a sudden injection of ecstasy.  
  
“Don’t!” Harry gasped, wincing under the threat of the needle. “D-Don’t! Please! No more piercings! Anything but that!” He watched Draco smile but he didn’t care, as long as he put that needle away. His treacherous cock arched under the tickling sensation, not realising the threat and his hands curled into fists under the effort to remain still. His jaw clenched but Draco didn’t stop. Unfortunately, Harry knew what he wanted.  
  
“You’re wonderful!” He gasped out in panic, half-sneering as he did so at the words passing his lips. “Y-You’re wonderful, let me cum s-so hard it hurts!” He felt shame choke him at the end and closed his eyes defiantly so that Malfoy couldn’t see how much it bothered him – though he probably already knew.  
  
“That’s _good_ , Harry,” Draco chuckled removing the needle from play and placing it back down on the bedside table. “Now beg me again, tell me _again_ how amazing I am _without_ the influence of the needle.” He couldn’t help himself. Something inside him got off on this, seeing Harry, who refused to break, fall apart at his feet. Because of him. It made him so hard, so hot.  
  
Draco bit lightly at the side of Harry’s tender cock and watched as he winced. His naïve, boyish husband screeched in defiance and arched crazily as Draco teased the pink end with his tongue, licking around the glans sweping circles. Curling his muscle around the saliva-glazed tip a final time, he pressed the point of his tongue into the oozing slit.   
  
Harry jerked like a man strung up on an electric fence.  
  
“Look at you,” Draco drawled smoothly around his prick, “You’re arching up for more. Whether you like it or not, your body wants me, bad…”   
  
“No,” Harry groaned, turning his cheek into the pillow determinedly as he felt his entire body flush with pleasure. “No more sex… I don’t _want_ it!” He felt his cock disagree heartily as it twitched in Draco’s hot mouth. It felt like it was _melting_. He didn’t want this, his will and his mind went to mush under the foreign sensations caressing his body. His hips jerked and he wriggled uncontrollably.   
  
“How do you expect me to relax – how can I _possibly_ enjoy this when I don’t know whether you’re going to hurt me or…?!” His voice cut off, not really knowing what to call it when Draco pleasured him. “I don’t want you – how could I _ever_ want you after this?!” Those eyes stared down at him thoughtfully for a moment, glowing with lust, before those slender fingers tugged distractedly at his nipple ring. Harry’s head pressed back, his jaw tense with the determination _not_ to moan and pant in the way he _knew_ Malfoy wanted.   
  
“You say you don’t want me, yet you’re pressing your little cock into my hand. I _don’t like_ liars,” Draco hissed seductively, brushing his other hand over Harry’s cheek. He caressed that face tenderly, seducing, _romancing_ Harry with a kind of startling softness, for a mere second, before slapping his face where he had just worshipped him. He reached for the needle again and held it above Harry’s eyes.   
  
“Why won’t you be honest with me, when you _know_ how much you want me in you?” Draco asked, his voice changing with a worrying hysteria.  
“ _That_ is why!” Harry whispered harshly, gesturing to the needle slightly, hating the way his face had leant into that touch on his cheek mere seconds before it had struck him. “Pleasure followed by pain, by _torment_. I can’t be with you, or _want_ you when I can’t trust you!” He glared at Malfoy for a moment, as if daring him to reply.  
  
Long fingers tugged at the bindings that held Harry’s wrists then. Having freed him from his bonds, Draco sat back slightly on the bed, watching thoughtfully as Harry rubbed his abused wrists.  
  
“You’re so much like a girl, I pity you,” Draco sneered, and he reached down, grasping his own penis. He began to rub, and made sure Harry heard when he gasped at the feeling of his fist wrapped around his own, aching hardness. “Sex is just sex, Harry,” He panted. “You don’t have to trust me to admit you want it. I’ve fucked dozens people I didn’t even necessarily like. And I can assure you, I never trusted any of them.”   
  
Harry opened his mouth to retort, but thought better of it. Silence would irritate Draco more than any witty reply. He was quickly proved right.  
  
“Get up!” Draco demanded harshly when he was ignored. “Get up and come here!”  
  
Harry sneered turning his head away in disgust. He glanced up briefly, his gaze lingering far too long on the bastard’s smug, lustful face. He was watching him with stifling fervour. “I thought my cock _stank_ ,” Harry replied simply, knowing the blond had been lying. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay away?” He offered Malfoy an awkward glare, quite aware of the fact that his cock was still sticking up, as if begging for that mouth, or those hands to return to it.   
  
Stumbling to his feet, Harry moved passed him, nearly passing the end of the bed before Draco’s free hand reached out and snapped around his wrist spitefully. “Get off me!” Harry demanded. That vice-grip tugged him hard back to the bed and he yelped as he found himself straddling Malfoy’s thighs. The knuckles of Draco’s hand – the one caressing his prick brushed up against Harry’s own cock teasingly with each thrust, and Harry was stunned, frozen there, for a moment not even fighting against the grip around his wrist.  
  
“Well, we all tell lies, don’t we?” Draco breathed, his voice a deep, rumbling purr that kept Harry drawn in closer despite the danger. “You’re no saint, even now, you’re lying to me. Your cock is bouncing mid air, like it wants me, like it _needs_ me…” Draco couldn’t remove his eyes from the organ that brushed up against his pale knuckles. The slightest of movements, it could have been a mere breath, but Harry finally came into contact with Draco. The naked meeting of flesh on flesh making the slytherin’s teeth clench. “Tell me, _please_. Tell me you want me, anything, just don’t lie to me _anymore_ …”  
  
Flinching with surprise at that Harry stared down at him with wide, glassy green eyes. Something inside him hurt at the frustration of that voice, and he recalled the startling image of Draco swigging back gin and drugs. The fact that it was a rare occurrence hadn’t made it any less terrifying, and that, combined with the image of the only child, desperate to make his mother happy and his father proud…  
  
It had been a long few days, so long that they felt like an eternity already, he was tired and sore. If he had gained anything else aside from pain, it was an understanding that Malfoy wasn’t as flawless or as powerful as he fancied himself to be.  
  
A small gasp shuddered past his lips as he grinded his hips into Malfoy’s slightly, not sure whether to pull back or not as Draco’s fingers tightened painfully around his wrist. Staring at him unsurely for a moment, Harry inhaled sharply before tipping his head down to catch Draco’s mouth with his own. His tongue flickered out quickly, not really sure what he was doing (or if he really wanted to do it at all).  
  
“You’re a bastard,” Harry growled against those slightly parted lips. “You hurt me, humiliate me and I hate it.” He felt the back of Draco’s hand tormenting his aching hardness still and he fell forward to that mouth again, groaning into it half-heartedly. Malfoy wanted the truth? “I want you,” he admitted quietly, so quietly he could barely hear it. “I don’t know why, but the parts without the pain… I’ve never felt anything like it and I want it.” He paused again, searching Draco’s eyes for something…  
  
“I want it, alright?!” He declared again, embarrassment dusting his skin in a full-body flush.   
  
Draco smiled, victoriously. “I knew it,” He hummed, licking at Harry’s lips, his teeth grazing them, before biting down. His hand tightened around the foreskin of Harry’s penis, tugging it gently, rolling it back and forth, hiding and exposing the damp, pink tip, pleasuring him over and over, as if he were rewarding him for his honesty.  
  
Harry shivered in Draco’s tight fist, unable to stop rocking into him. His hand flew down to cradle Draco’s hand against his cock, unsure whether to hold him there or pull him away. All the same, his fingers manipulated Draco’s thumb into the tender ridge of flesh under his weeping head, never stopping those leisurely strokes that made his bones quiver.   
  
As if inspired by the sight of Harry’s head rolling limply on his neck, Draco asked, “What do you want me to do to you?” This was his first time allowing a lover a say in what they did and he could not help but notice Harry’s blush, his cheeks flushed in such a way it stirred an odd feeling in his gut.  
  
Draco was being…considerate? Not that Harry had any delusions that he would actually get what he wanted, even if was allowed to request it. Draco continued to hammer his organ, a dribble of saliva drizzling out over his lips and splashing over the cock in his hand. He smeared the liquid in with his intensifying strokes and Harry gasped. “Well…?” Draco prompted.  
  
Harry’s body arched forwards like a bow and he tipped his head back, eyes closed, for a moment enjoying it guiltily. When Draco pinched his throbbing tip however, his glassy eyes drew back to the Blond’s smug face. _What are you **doing**?_ His mind berated him. _You’re Harry Potter! You don’t give up, not after a few mere days of torture – pathetic…_  
  
But he’d never felt anything this good.  
  
Reaching down hesitantly, he flicked his eyes back to Draco before gripping his own hardness. He hummed slightly in his throat, still embarrassed, still dubiously consenting, and brushed his hot tip over Malfoy’s slowly. He heard that gasp and smirked briefly, before pushing his tip into Malfoy’s slightly, bringing his foreskin up with the stoke of his hand and around the hot, pulsing head of Draco’s organ.   
  
Thick, globules of pre-cum slicked his strokes as he brought his hand back, rolling Draco’s foreskin over his own and then repeating it, uncertainly slow. He felt Draco jerk slightly in his hand as he pinched the silk heat of his own slick skin over his cock again, but his movements slowed undecidedly. This felt far too intimate, too mutual, and he was enjoying it more than he should considering all that the bastard had done to him…  
  
“Hmmm…!” Draco gasped. “That – that feels… _good_!” Draco said in a surprised tone. “Keep…keep stroking!” The slytherin was amazed at the feeling, he had never felt anything quite as intense before. It almost felt like there were feelings behind Harry’s motions, something more than rough, raw desire behind the tender, tentative touches.  
  
Lost in the moment, he reached up and tugged on one of Harry’s nipple piercings, and Harry yelped. They still painfully ached from where they were freshly pierced.  
  
“That hurt,” Harry hissed, “Heal them first if you’re going to tug on them!” Had his mind not been addled by passion, he might have realised that he hadn’t expressed a wish for Draco not to tug on them full stop – that would come back to haunt his guilty, unsure thoughts much later….  
  
His hand moved faster, twisting at the tips of their erections. He tested where Draco held his other hand captive still and pulled it free from the slack grip to brush his fingertips along the shape of that pale collarbone. He considered Draco’s expression briefly then, before he brought the digits down to ghost over pale pink nipples. Draco shuddered, but before he could recover, Harry gave one a small twist, smirking at the sound that tore from those lips, fisting their cocks hungrily in answer.  
  
 _How can you give in so easily?!_ His mind was screaming, even as he was panting in bliss. _Pathetic, pathetic…just as bad as he is!_ But he wasn’t listening – not yet anyway.  
  
“Bloody hell!” Draco yelped, feeling the ripples of pleasure rush through his chest. He laughed with uncertainty then, not sure if this was just a virgin’s curiosity or the power of the moment seizing Harry, or something more. “F-For someone so…so inexperienced, when you try, you’re…not _bad_ ,” He managed out, leaning forwards now so his hands knotted in the sheets either side of Harry’s head. He threw his head back and for a moment, lost in the beauty of pleasure when his addiction to pain faded.   
_  
What is this? This feeling I’m… Why am I feeling so…?_  
  
Draco glared down at Harry, glassy, silver orbs burning into emerald ones. He grinned, shrugging of that unnameable _feeling_ and he reached down twist one of those pierced buds painfully.  
  
“Fuck!” Harry growled, swatting Draco’s suddenly vicious hand away and staring down at the thin globule of blood crying from his nipple. “Spiteful prick,” Harry cursed, “Why be so rough when I’m giving you what you want?” He glared at the blond for a moment, before pushing him back slightly so that he was sitting upright with his back flat against the headboard, Harry climbed over his hips, rubbing his erection tentatively over Draco’s.   
  
“Umm… Can I have my wand?” Harry asked, only to have those eyes narrow with suspicion. A frown creased the dark-haired boy’s brow in response to the silence. “Or you can pass me some lube from elsewhere?”  
  
Draco’s eyes widened at this sudden confidence, and he relented, retrieving Harry’s wand from it’s hiding place in the box at the bottom of the bed. With a thoughtful pause, he handed it back to it’s rightful owner. “Here,” Draco said softly, his seductive eyes narrowed, still suspicious. “Though I can’t understand why _you_ need the lube when it will be me who is fucking _you_.” He paused in a shocking realization. “You didn’t think you would be taking me, surely, do you?”   
  
Harry raised a disbelieving brow at him, for a moment considering hexing the bastard to the ceiling and leaving him there, but thinking better of it. It would do no good for them to both be dishonest and spiteful. _Stupid bloody Gryffindor,_ a very _Snape_ -like voice admonished. He waited for Draco to sit back down and then resumed his position over his hips. “I suppose not,” Harry bit out, reaching around himself struggling to get his wand tip inside his entrance from the angle. He murmured a spell. (one Hermione had hastily searched for and then recommended when he’d told her of his fate). He jumped slightly when he felt his abused backside stretch, liquid spurting inside him.   
  
Clenching his entrance tightly to keep the lube in, Harry aimed his wand at Malfoy’s cock, enjoying the brief flicker of worry in those eyes before he cast the spell again. _It would’ve served him right if I’d have hexed his cock off,_ Harry thought, as he leant forwards, bracing himself on the headboard with his arse hovering over Draco’s cock.   
  
“I can’t reach, put it in,” he hissed out, having second thoughts even as he was saying it.   
  
Draco's lips twisted with a broad smile as his 'wife' shifted agitatedly, grazing his slick entrance along his member. Harry fidgeted a little and Draco just watched for a moment as he struggled to force the blond’s dick in. It wasn't the most fiddly of tasks, though Harry seemed to think different.   
  
“Come on, fuck me, ride my cock,” Draco gasped, his voice almost a whisper. Finally, he heeded Harry’s wishes and held his dick in place as Harry slid along it. The slick sheeth clenched around him, the pressure sucking his foreskin back deliciously as Harry swallowed him to the base. Harry let out a groan unlike anything Draco had ever heard, from the very depths of his lungs, husky and raw.   
  
Harry winced, his fingers curling into fists against the support of the headboard as he lowered himself over Draco’s cock. He frowned, his body tensing but not at the pain, at the humiliating sounds leaving his throat, and the way Draco was throbbing harder with every utterance. He froze for a moment, panting heavily as his back arched, fully impaled on Malfoy’s hardness.  
  
Grinding his lip between his teeth he waited for a moment, for the burning, stretching pain to diminish a little, but Malfoy’s fingers digging into his hips were a warning he wouldn’t be allowed such a small mercy. Inhaling shakily, he pushed out into the pulsing pain and felt relief as his walls slid wetly up to the tip, before swallowing the shaft hungrily once more.  
  
“Oh…” Harry murmured quietly, in surprised pleasure. _Two days,_ that spiteful voice sneered. _Two days it took him to break you, some Chosen One…_  
  
Draco felt his cock melt inside Harry’s body, only the thoughts of how easy this had been crossing his twisted mind. _I really must be irriesistable if the great Harry Potter fell at my feet after such a short period of time._ That egotistical thought just made the bastard’s cock drive harder up into Harry's crack. His smile was wider than Harry had ever seen it, and Draco could not help but notice him trying _not_ to make eye contact.  
  
Not to be denied Harry’s utter humiliation, he reached up to seize Harry's chin and forced his flustered face to endure his gaze when he started to fuck Draco's cock. “Do you like how my cock feels up your arse?” The blond hissed. Harry chewed his tongue – as his lip stung from already being bitten. He glared with desperate defiance and lust shining in his eyes, wanting so badly to answer ‘no’ but he was determined not to lie any longer…  
  
“Yes,” he growled, but with no more delight in his words to back it up. Still Malfoy smiled triumphantly, not allowing him to look away. “I like how it feels,” he elaborated breathlessly, knowing that’s what he wanted, but he wasn’t sure whether he was giving it to him to stop him from exacting any further torture or to keep him from stopping.   
  
Heat was swelling in his arse now and he tried to tear his chin from Malfoy’s grasp at the wet, debauched sound of his hips grinding over that thick erection. A sweet pleasure shot through his cock, spitting precum over Draco’s stomach as each gyration tormented his sweet spot, drawing humiliating groans from his bitten lips.  
  
Draco gasped when Harry answered him with a _“yes”_. That smile would just not leave his face. There was something overwhelmingly glorious about having Harry admit it to him. “Tell me. Tell me how much you like my big cock in your hole,” Draco toyed with him, grasping Harry's cheeks and fighting his way deeper. Harry's bum grazed Draco's thighs mouth-wateringly with every inward movement, his tight chute clinging to the hard shaft on each withdrawal.  
  
“To think, you were only a virgin two days ago, and now you can't get enough…”  
“You take pleasure in the fact that you’ve turned me into this whore?” Harry snarled, although it wasn’t really a question, it was more a statement of disgust –for himself. He’d let Malfoy do this, turn him into something…dirty, but even the knowledge of it didn’t dull the tight, hot ecstasy in his stomach. “I like – like your cock – in my arse!” He gasped out, bringing his backside hard down onto each upward thrust from Malfoy. “Just a shame it’s attached to a sadistic wanker!”  
  
And Malfoy still smiled – Harry wished he would stop smiling! He cried out as those lurches up into his body battered his arse until he groaned out near-pain, slumping slightly so that his fingers bit into Draco’s pale shoulders. The spike of pain didn’t seem to bother him and Harry closed his eyes, shutting out that humiliating grin, and the way the sight of it, the feel of this torment send sinful shudders down his spine.  
  
He felt his cock harden painfully as it slid wetly against the plains of Draco’s stomach, he pressed it into him hungrily, canting his hips. Yes this was sin, this was disgusting and _he_ was falling – a far cry away from the hero his friends imagined him to be. _What a fine hero you make,_ a derisive voice in his head sneered as he rode Malfoy’s thrusting hips – _what would they say if they saw you riding an ex-death eater’s cock?!_  
  
“You're right, I love how easily I bent the famous Harry Potter to my will,” Draco sneered trimumpanthly. “Even your hips agree, look how they are jolting along with me…” He saw Harry blush before that dark head tossed to the side, pink, kiss-bruised lips parting with a shallow cry. Draco reached up then and tweaked the belly-button piercing teasingly. He watched Harry shudder against him for a moment, before diverting his torment to the still freshly wounded nubs.  
  
At the sharp jolts of pain that flashed through his chest, Harry glared at him, steadying himself on Draco’s shoulder and reaching for his wand swiftly, healing his nipples while he had the chance. He didn’t know how accommodating the blond would be afterwards. Dropping his wand to the side, he jerked as those fingers tweaked one of his nipple-piercings again. This time he gasped at the startling sensations that shot down to where their bodies met and where his hastened gyrations had only increased with desperation.  
  
Panting heavily he struggled to stop from speaking. It was so good and different and he wanted to admit it, wanted to _scream_ it but he’d give Malfoy no such pleasure. His balls felt tight and heavy and he wanted to reach down to stroke his leaking cock but he couldn’t do that and continue riding Draco’s hips. He was seeing stars and sweat trickled down his flushed skin. Resolved to being unable to touch himself, he gasped out in frustration, pressing himself into that stomach instead, lingering on the precipice of orgasm but not able to reach it.   
  
In the next instance, however, he was rudely yanked from his blissful abyss.   
  
Draco roughly dragged Harry down by his dark locks, flipping him over until his husband was sprawled on his side, Draco spooning up against his back. He breathed headily over a vulnerable ear, before shoving Harry’s head into the sheets and shoving himself back inside.   
  
He moved faster and harder and Harry felt the cock move deeper from this angle. The slytherin could see Harry barely abstaining from grasping his neglected penis and he used it to his advantage. “You want me to rub your cock, huh?” Draco purred seductively.  
  
Harry felt like he was choking on each thrust and shook his head defiantly at Draco’s husky, tormenting voice. He wanted to say – to _scream_ that he didn’t want it but he didn’t trust his words and when his bruised lips parted all he could manage was a strangled groan for more. His hungry hole swallowed every punch of those hips and clenched wantonly. The lube dribbled down his thighs as Malfoy pounded him and his fists knotted in the sheets as he felt the same humiliating roughness strike a spark so deep in him he felt like he was being set on fire.  
  
Then Malfoy’s soft fingertips settled on the hollow of his pelvic bone and even that friction on his sensitive flesh was too much. His body arched back, then forward into each alternate pleasure, his head turning into the pillow to silence his cry at how good the heat of that bastard’s body crushing him felt.   
  
Reaching down for his own hardness, he jumped when Draco caught his wrist, effectively stopping him, those eyes staring into him darkly. Harry cried out in frustration. “YES!” He shouted into the sheets, “ _Please_ , my cock – touch it! Make me cum, I’m going to burst, _please_!” The words felt bitter, sickly on his tongue, but he was powerless to stop them.  
  
Draco’s tongue flickered over his own pink lips, gathering the taste of Harry’s body off of them before driving in faster. “Beg – beg me to stroke your cock. Shout. Tell everyone, from the top of your lungs how you want _Draco Malfoy_ to rub your wussy little cock. Go on, do it!”   
  
Harry was beyond humiliation – _for now_. Asking him such things, pushing him far beyond the limit and so soon was…barbaric. And it could all backfire, but Draco took his chances. He was getting off just from the image of Harry giving in, surrendering to him. He had such a complex…  
  
“I…I want…” Harry panted, his words broken by the unbearable ecstasy. He shook his head again, but not from wanting to say ‘no’ from the dizzying, excruciating pleasure. “I want – Draco Malfoy –” His words jolted in volume with a particularly hard thrust on the Blond’s name. “I want him to – rub my – my cock!” Blood crept from his lip this time, and he was glad of it, glad of the pain to remind him how disgusting he was for surrendering. _Sick, sick!_ His mind panted, even as his body screamed for release.   
  
The slytherin laughed, almost hysterically. “That's right, say my name, _say it_ ,” He ordered, liking the way those words sounded on Harry’s lips. A little too much. His dick felt like it was swelling inside Harry's backside, so intense, and building to something…amazing. Something unlike he’d felt before.  
  
“Ahhh…!” Draco gasped, lips parting with sweet need as he jerked Harry along with his every movement by his hips. “So good! So good…!”  
  
Draco wrapped his fingers around the throbbing tip of Harry's' penis and squeezed it, grinning devilishly. “How much do you want to cum, _Malfoy_?” Draco teased, relishing in Harry’s shudder. He was evidently still not used to that name.   
  
“A-A lot! A lot!” He panted without pause, grinding back into the brutal thrusts shaking him. “Oh!” He couldn’t finish that, he felt his insides clench as if clinging to Malfoy every time he dragged back out. He felt his stomach shoved somewhere up by his lungs from every lurch into him and cried out. His fingers flew down to grasp Draco’s wrist without any intention of stopping him, just as he felt the eruption build in his balls. He clenched his eyes shut, unable to look at Malfoy as he groaned in tortured bliss, his arse in spasms around that thick erection as it pummelled him.  
  
“Ahh…!” Draco yelled, feeling everything tighten and tingle. “My cock is going to explode!” And finally, they both hurtled towards the pinnacle of release. “Cum with me, Harry,” He hissed. Harry flushed. That was a rather _intimate_ thing to say. Caught up in the moment, Draco leant in, seeking Harry’s parted mouth and massaging their tongues together heatedly.   
  
Harry’s eyes fluttered and he pressed forwards, opening his mouth to that questing tongue hungrily and moaning without restraint as he spilled his essence over Draco’s hand. It splashed over their stomachs and he gasped into those lips as he felt Draco’s cock throb and explode inside him. It was hot and covering him, filling him and he could only moan wantonly into the tongue pillaging his own.   
  
As he drew back, Malfoy’s panting, post-orgasmic breaths dusted his cheeks and he collapsed into the sheets. And it hit him. He hadn’t protested. He hadn’t struggled, begged for all he was worth to escape… _I gave in_ , Harry thought, the delicious after-sensations that had been rushing through his body in soft tingles shoved brutally away by the harsh reality.  
  
 _What have I done?_  
  
He flinched when Draco brought him into his chest (in a moment of unthinking, after-glow daze). He felt his stomach plummet, felt bile creep up his throat at the feel of Draco’s semen drizzling from his stretched, gaping hole. “Oh god…” He gasped, the words followed by a wretched, dry sob. He remembered all too clear, the cruelty in Draco Malfoy’s eyes as he had awoken him, had ripped him from comfort and raped him, had tortured him with needles…and he, _Harry_ had liked it, had initiated it in the end…  
  
 _Falling for Malfoy’s fake seduction, being deceived by his romantic gestures, foolish little boy, seduced by his_ pleasure…  
  
Draco fell breathlessly into the sheets beside Harry with a thump. Sweat drizzled over his skin and dripped into the duvet beneath him. He rolled onto his back and stared blearily at the canopy, slowly coming down from the white-hot hurricane he’d been swept up in. Glancing sideways at Harry, he could not help but see the anxiety, the discomfort twisting those features. “You look upset,” He asked, but recieved no answer and so he slid off the bed to his feet.   
  
“Want a drink?” Draco asked abruptly, startling and Harry raised a brow as he regarded him closely, bemused. Draco shrugged. “I'm going to get a drink, do you want one?” He asked again, and Harry could not help but remained dazed at his uncharacteristic offer. Even though it was a small thing, it seemed like a massive shower of kindness, like the kisses, like the hand to his cheek after the pain he had suffered the last few days.  
  
 _Sex must have addled his brain,_ Harry thought bitterly.  
  
“Y-Yes,” Harry replied warily, not quite sure how this was going to end. Draco seemed just as amazed with his abnormal meekness as he was with the blond’s chivalry and in light of the milestone of kindness, he added quickly, “Please.” He took a moment after watching Draco leave, studying the closed door for an extended, silent moment, before reaching for his wand on the side table.   
  
“ _Episkey_!” He chanted as he aimed his wand at himself, and felt all of his minor injuries fade blissfully. The rawness in his backside remained, but it didn’t throb with blistering agony as it had after the first time. He waited for a moment, then cleaned his body of unnecessary fluids before setting it and his glasses back down on the side. He lay there, for a moment in undisturbed silence.  
  
The canopy above held his gaze, mesmerising him. I can’t give in to him every time he throws me an ounce of kindness, he thought determinedly, but knowing he would sway at the next sign. Malfoy was complex, more deep and scarred than outwardly seen, and as well as pity, Harry empathised with him.   
  
_Ron always did say I was too soft,_ he thought sadly, remembering his friends’ faces as he had allowed Malfoy to shut the door on them. _I asked him to do it,_ he recalled, ashamed to realise that he had been relieved when Malfoy had done it. He couldn’t allow them to see, he could fall, he could break under Malfoy’s hands but they could never see how badly – _never._  
  
But then it hit him, as hard as the slap in the face he’d received earlier. They could never see, never know, _just_ as they had never known how severely worn – _fractured_ he had been after the war ended. They could never know why it was so easy for him to be broken. It was as if he were cracked china after Voldemort had fallen, collecting dust on a shelf until Draco barged through and applied just the slightest pressure…  
  
The door opened and Draco returned, pausing on the threshold to regard him thoughtfully before kicking the door closed. Harry sat upright, warily reaching to take the glass of water Draco offered. He accepted it, slowly bringing it to his lips whilst keeping his emerald gaze fixed on those grey ones that were studying him. This all seemed too good to be true…  
  
 _Narcissa said he was obsessed with you,_ his mind reminded him, the meaning behind the gleam in her eyes earlier that day, suddenly becoming apparent as he lowered the glass, never breaking eye-contact. “Thank you,” he said meaningfully, waiting quietly for an answer, for movement – _anything._  
  
The blond ignored Harry's thanks, walked round to the bedside table and pulled out his pill box. Slowly breaking the metal seal, he popped a pill out and into his hand. He threw it into the back of his throat and swallowed hard. Harry asked between a muffled swig what it was he was taking, and Draco assured him it was just a painkiller. Then he looked back at Harry and smiled worryingly.   
  
“How's the taste?” He asked.  
  
Harry choked on his water.  
  
“Y-You…what did you put in this?” He asked warily, pounding his fist on his chest to ease the choking slightly. He coughed hard, until his throat was quite raw and watched as Malfoy’s expression tipped up into a sly smirk. “You _dickwad_ – what have you poisoned me with?!” He leant forwards, covering his mouth as the feel of the spiked water itching his throat diminished and he was free to glare at Malfoy suspiciously, even as the blond grinned.  
  
“Is there something about Malfoys spiking my drinks?” he asked warily, but Malfoy just looked confused. “Don’t worry,” he said quickly, realising that explaining Narcissa’s assistance earlier would mean that Draco would know she was aware of his…less than _respectful_ lifestyle aspects, and he didn’t want to damage the bond his _husband_ seemed to treasure so much with his mother…  
  
“Tell me what you just put in my drink?!” He insisted, even as he felt drowsiness overcome him and his aches fade a little. Strong, warm hands pressed on his shoulders until he lay flat on his side of the bed and then the hands shuddered away. Harry watched as Malfoy climbed under the sheets, watching him with undeniable mirth. Was the bastard _joking_ with him?!  
  
“Calm down, it's just a little something to relax you. You really _think_ I would poison you to death?” He asked, noticing Harry's eyebrows denting inwards, clearly suggesting Harry _did_ think that. He leant in then and pulled the covers over them both, running his fingers through his blond locks.   
  
“I am hardly going to kill you, what a waste that would be,” He said simply, his words trailing off absently as he reached into the draw and took out his wand.  
  
“I never know what you're going to do,” Harry clarified for him, laying into the exhaustion, embracing the sleeping draught but keeping his narrowed eyes on the wand in Draco's hand. “What are you going to do with me?” He asked carefully. “I mean… You cant divorce me, but I am sure you'll get bored of tormenting me eventually!”  
  
Draco blinked at him impassively. “Not having looked that far into the future, I wouldn't know…” He paused and carefully thought out his next sentence before it finally left his lips. “But I won't just want to throw you away,” He finished, deciding against sleep and climbing out of the bed. He stood there for a moment, watching the shadows of the room play games with Harry’s features as a light sleep took him. He broke free of the spell quick enough, however, when he realised he’d been staring and he turned abruptly, making his way to the bathroom. He wanted a shower.  
  
 _  
~To Be Continued..._  


	6. Beauty in Paradox

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important Note! There is a scene at the end of this chapter that, while not disturbing, may not be to everyone's taste. If that is so, please read the rest of the chapter and breeze over the end :) Thank you!

[Six]  
 **Beauty in Paradox**  
  
  
  
The weeks passed with such slow procession that Harry was sure he had been here, been a prisoner for months rather than weeks. As with the first two days, the tortures escalated, then dropped suddenly, with no more warning than a brief, comparatively calm gesture. Like the glass of water, like the sleeping potion and the fleeting kisses, the random acts of kindness startled him into complacency, only to have the tortures begin again, as if Malfoy was realising how _nice_ he was being each time and was determined to make up for it in pain…  
  
The regular thrumming noise of a machine hummed in his ears. His lower lip trembled around the nameless, cruel contraption keeping his mouth open, drool drizzling down his chin as he groaned into his gag. His eyes burned from the strained attempts at seeing through the blackness of the blindfold, and his wrists were chaffed from the struggles for freedom, from the way they were stretched back and bound, arching his spine cruelly to accept this _punishment_ he had not earned.   
  
His backside ached from the continous throbbing pleasure, the regular pressure on his bruised prostrate making him gasp and splutter into his gag despite his becoming accustomed to it. The rim of his convulsing hole twitched wildly and he winced at the tightness that would not assuage from his stomach. Draco had come back a few times, given the smallest of respites then resumed this torture again. He hadn’t left him down here so long before and he panicked as his bladder groaned as well as his balls.  
  
 _If he leaves me here to piss myself I’ll_ piss _on him,_ he thought bitterly.   
  
A slow, familiar creak of the door opening and closing sounded, followed by footsteps on the stairs that made his ears perk hopefully. His body straightened as much as it could as that presence neared. He murmured incoherently into his gag, trying to make his needs clear – but then, Draco probably knew about _all_ of them. _And he’ll make me beg for every one,_ he thought with a sneer.  
  
“Having fun?” Draco hissed, knowing full well Harry couldn't see him nor answer him in his restraints. He placed down a few bags beside the machine Harry was bound to in his 'dungeon' and walked around the other side of Harry. “Look at you, been here for hours and you're still rock hard,” He hissed, caressing that naked, bruised torso.  
  
 _Tormenting arsehole,_ Harry spat, mentally if not aloud. He struggled when those fingers slid along his sweat-slicked skin, tracing the arch of his spine down until Harry’s tense buttocks. Harry groaned, his head lolling uselessly on his shoulders as Malfoy’s cool palms spread his arse-cheeks roughly, opening him wide for the sculpted cock slamming mechanically into his abused hole.  
  
Shaking his head, Harry wriggled uselessly, babbling into the gag for Draco to release him.  
  
The perverted blond grinned as Harry squirmed. “The more you move the more it will hurt,” He warned huskily, turning the power on phallic machine up to full and watching it shove the thick length of the shaft up into Harry’s wilting body harder.  
  
“If you wan't, I'll even remove the gag so you can tell me what a bastard I am. You know how I love it when you call me all the crude things you do.” He purred, laying his fingers over Harry's jawline and stroking it lightly. Harry tried to jolt his head away but failed miserably in his fetters.  
  
No, Harry thought desperately, frustrated tears soaking the blindfold. If the gag was taken away, he would say all manner of things, _anything_ to get this to stop – the ache in his jaw was a small price to pay. Those fingers traced his flesh, all the way up to his ear before twisting at where the gag was tied, the ball fell free from his mouth with a humiliating, wet trail of drool and Harry gasped for breath, grinding his teeth.   
  
“What did I do to earn _this_?!” Harry panted, his voice hoarse from not speaking in hours. His legs trembled from the effort of holding him up, lubrication (that Draco had granted) trailing down his thighs and mingling with cum from his previous orgasms.   
  
“If you want to be a Malfoy, you have to become my little slut,” Draco said bluntly, a hint of amusement playing at his mouth. “You are my wife after all and I'm breaking you… Soon, you will beg me for this.” The smug bastard smiled. Looking over Harry's abused body he licked his lips and dived in. His lips ghosted over the tip of Harry's penis, he pressed them over it and swallowed him whole, like a child with a lollipop.  
  
“Hmmm,” Draco choked, sucking at that swollen, oversensitive shaft. He licked up the vein along the back of his cock and grazed the head with his teeth. Lapping up the pre-emission that slithered out the tip, he swirled his tongue in circles around the glans.  
  
“Hnnn…Nnn…N-NO!” Harry groaned as that tongue worked his throbbing, needy cock. He clenched his teeth tightly. “D-Don’t! Don’t say things l-like… _that_!” his hips jumped as Draco hummed mockingly over him, the vibrations shooting through his body. He wanted to say he’d never be his slut, never be broken and certainly never beg, but he had set himself on the truth, and he didn’t know if that would be the truth much longer. _Pathetic,_ he thought, not for the first, nor last time, _You can survive Voldemort but not a forced marriage to Draco_ bloody _Malfoy?!_  
  
“Stop!” He screamed again, desperate to say he hated it, to say those words slipping from Draco’s mouth were disgusting, but he wasn’t sure they were. He hated the torment, but the pleasure made his body sing like an instrument, begging to be plucked.   
  
The blond stopped, to Harry's surprise, and Harry's cock fell from his wet, saliva-drenched lips. He turned his gaze to Harry and smiled slickly. “Is that really what you want, for me to stop?” He looked back at Harry's twitching cock and grinned. “Your cock seems to say different…well?”  
  
“I…I don’t…!” He gasped, he squirmed, his backside was tense and sore but Draco’s grip around his cock was delicious. He was so sensitive, he’d cum in an instant if Malfoy kept…  
  
He flinched at his train of thought. _I don’t even fight him anymore,_ he thought with disgust. Was the exhaustion, was the utter _weariness_ to his body the reason he was surrendering so easily by comparison to other tortures he had suffered? Maybe that, combined with how good it _could_ feel – _and the fact that Malfoy is the only person I have seen in this whole place since I’ve come here,_ he added mentally, having seen only Narcissa and Lucius at the dinner table, though their conversation was sparse.   
  
Malfoy was the only thing that gave him sense of activity or life in this prison, and he loathed how he depended on him – but Draco relished in it.   
  
“Fine then,” Draco answered, turning to walk away. _There’s no point unless he is truthful with me, besides, if this is what it takes to break him, I can forsake my horniness and let him lie and suffer in silence._ Draco began walking towards the door, Harry would admit to him, or lie in darkness until he did. “You want to know about torture, well here it is. You can be honest with me or you won't cum, you can lie there and get fucked endlessly by that machine.”  
  
“NO!” Harry gasped out immediately, shifting as the vile machine pounded his backside. “D-Don’t! I – I don’t know what I want! But don’t…don’t leave me on this any longer! My arse will never go back to normal!” He swore he _heard_ Draco’s cruel smile, followed by a snigger. He felt movement around him and jerked his head to try and hear it before he felt those hands again.  
  
“I need…I need to cum – I need to… _piss_!” He whispered the last part, as if he didn’t dare speak them louder, didn’t really want Draco to hear…  
  
But he had heard it. “You want these things yet you won't admit you like the feeling of simply cuming or pissing.” Draco strolled back and stood beside him for a few moments, studying every quivering movement Harry’s body made. “Tell your husband how much you want him to suck your cock. How you want him to devour it into sweet oblivion. Come on…tell me?” Draco teased, his fingers reaching back down to the thick organ hanging between his legs. It throbbed a dark pink, was sore but burning hot. With a devious look in his eyes, he leant down and sniffed up Harry's cock.   
  
“Hmm, I love the smell of a leaking, dirty cock,” Draco grinned, his teeth grazing over the tip again and bit slowly and gently.  
  
“No!” Harry insisted, turning his head away even though he couldn’t see that grinning face. “I’m not – it’s _not_ dirty!” _But you’re leaking like the slut he wants you to be,_ his mind corrected. He wriggled when those lips caressed his sensitive, soaking tip, smoothing seductively around the glans until he choked on a groan. “Oh… I’m going to cum if you do that!” His words were nearly a shout and his body went rigid as he dribbled pre-emission lavishly over Draco’s lips. He felt like he was going to burst.  
  
“Such a bittersweet taste,” Draco hissed, scraping his teeth tenderly down the throbbing organ until he was deep-throating him. He began moving his lips along the foreskin, his hand trailing over that stomach and pinching at his belly piercing. Harry arched manically into his mouth a few times before jerking upwards, _hard_ and Draco swore he could feel Harry's shaft swell. “For someone who hates me, you sure are grinding into me like a bitch in heat,” Draco laughed, taking the organ back into his mouth.  
  
“I…” Harry winced, he was about to say he wasn’t, but he so clearly was! He flushed darkly, tipping his head back as he cried out shakily. “I can’t help it!” He groaned, jerking frenziedly into the heat of that mouth as the fake cock hammered his insides. The drool from the gag still ran down his chin and he turned his head to his shoulder to wipe it off. Shameful, he looked shameful, he felt shameful, but he felt good as well…  
  
 _The blow-job,_ he tried to convince himself, _you like that, not the machine, not the torture, not this_ house _and certainly not Draco Malfoy!_  
  
His teeth clenched, relishing in the feel of those fingers plucking his pierced nipples until his backside clenched around the pounding it was receiving. “N-Now! I need it…impossibly at his words.  
  
And Harry did burst. He clenched his teeth to stop from groaning but only stifled half of the humiliating sounds as his cum exploded in Draco’s hot mouth. He felt that throat swallowing around him and trembled, struggling in his post-orgasmic bliss as the pressure in his stomach swelled insanely, the thrashing his hole was receiving helping little.  
  
“N-No! Come on, let me go! I still need to… _wee_!” he tried to pull back, to get the stimulation off of his angry, red, oversensitised organ, but that only shoved the machine’s cock deeper into him. “Malfoy, don’t be sick, let me go!”  
  
Draco continued to stroke that member of Harry's fiercely in his hand, licking the cum from his lips and watched as Harry's cock twitched for _other reasons._ “Piss yourself then, go on, let it all out…” Draco hissed. “I'd love to watch…” His sick eyes dazzled in the artifical light when Harry's cock released a tiny trickle of yellow hot liquid from the tip. Draco's smile broadened and he sat back a little. “Do you feel humiliated, you slut?”  
  
“Yes! I fucking _do!_ ” Hary screamed, jerking backwards, trying to get Draco off of him. He sneered through his blindfold, his body clenching in an attempt to not spill. “I’m serious! Malfoy – _Draco_ , I can’t hold it!” But that breath still panted over his limp cock, and those fingers still caressed the flesh teasingly. _Oh Merlin!_  
  
“Draco!” He shouted again, the machine still fucking his arse not inflicting nothing but pain to his bruised, stretched hole as he tensed to stop from urinating. “Seriously! I – I’m…” His teeth clenched, he couldn’t say anymore, it hurt to hold on. “Don’t!”  
  
At last, Draco stopped the machine, and pulled it away with a loud ‘pop’. Harry's arse finally free but it took a moment before his body stopped following the motions of it. “Heh,” Draco drawled, leaning in to Harry's ear he bit on it, his cruel words steaming over the flustered flesh.   
  
“You're a bloody whore. You wanted it the entire time, go on… _admit it_?” He followed his words by pressing the end of his tongue into the curve of Harry's earlobe, licking wetly over it and sending shivers through his husband’s abused body. “Don't worry, I've got your birthday present here for you later – if you can admit to liking this that is. You may get rewarded.”  
  
Harry turned his head to the side, trying to avoid that tongue, those hot words in his flushed ear, and failing. He growled furiously, deep in his throat. “I liked you sucking my cock,” he admitted with a sneer, “But I don’t like being tied up and blindfolded while you leave me to the mercy of some… _fucking_ machine – and I _don’t_ like pissing myself either! So let me go!”  
  
He swore the tendons in his neck would snap from the strain.   
  
Draco laughed, reaching over to the restraints and unbuckled them so that Harry's hands were free. “You don't like it yet, but you will,” He assured him, though Harry wasn't sure that he _wanted_ to be reassured about somthing like that! “Come on, get up, I need to get to work and I lock this room while I’m not here, as you know,” Draco needlessly explained, watching Harry move swiftly from his broken backside to his feet.  
  
Harry tore the sweat-dampened blindfold from his eyes and tossed it away carelessly. Ruffling his untidy hair with one hand, the other clung numbly to the banister as he struggled up the stairs. His legs felt like jelly and they quivered with every step, threatening to give way. He could still feel Draco watching his naked, abuse arse from behind but couldn’t find the strength to care currently.  
  
Stumbling into their bedroom, Harry heard Draco locking the hidden door down to the torture chamber, only just, as he fell slightly against the wardrobe, leaning heavily as his breath shook his aching chest. He was exhausted. He thought he sensed the blond’s gaze lingering on him as he stood there and the aching pressure of his bladder combined with the heat of that stare to drive him struggling to the bathroom.  
  
“I can’t believe you’re watching me pee,” Harry grumbled as he relieved himself in the toilet, seeing Draco lingering on the threshold in the mirror. His own reflection rolled its eyes tiredly. _Probably watching to make sure I don’t pass out,_ he thought, smiling bitterly as he realised how amusing the bastard would find it, Harry Potter drowning in the toilet bowl. _Wanker would probably die laughing…_  
  
“What do you _want_?” Harry asked at last, when the blond was _still_ watching, even as he washed his hands and face shakily.  
  
“I want to kiss you,” He answered simply, that single statement stunning Harry. Draco approached slowly and fed his arms over those tense, naked shoulders, pulling him in close. “I want you to meet me from work wearing these underneath you're clothes,” he breathed huskily, handing Harry the _birthday gift_ , pressing the bag into his hand. “This is only part of your birthday gift, but if you want the rest, you will have to do as I say.” The blond grinned when Harry's face flushed upon opening the expensive pink gift bag.  
  
Green eyes flew up to meet Draco’s reflection. “You can’t be serious,” he murmured, but the broad smile of the blond hanging about his shoulders signalled he was _very_ serious. “But they’re…” He struggled to make the words leave his mouth. “They’re _girls_ underwear.” Draco’s hand reached around him, holding his gaze in the mirror. He pressed his lips to the corner of his mouth, while that hand brought the frilly, black lace and hot pink knickers up for an embarrassed Harry to look at unhindered.   
  
Semi-translucent, black material and lace formed the back and the edges, whilst the front was embroidered with hot pink bows. “Why do I think I will like my reward even less than the _gift_?” Harry asked, snatching the knickers petulantly. In the mirror, Malfoy’s eyes glowed with something Harry was entirely uncomfortable with. That mouth trekked down his skin as that gaze watched him in the mirror, his face and body still flushed from his sexual torture. Kisses dusted his throat and he shuddered as the blond mouthed the sensitive flesh where his pulse raced under the skin.  
  
“Draco?” He asked, flinching at how that name sounded just then, on his bruised lips. “Is today really my birthday?” In truth, he had lost count of dates since their _‘wedding’._  
  
“Yes, it is…” Draco assured him, still dragging his mouth across his collarbone and watching in the mirror as Harry held the underwear in his hands. “Well, what are you waiting for?” He whispered seductively, in a voice that could make any man commit murder. “Put them on…” Harry's eyes pressed shut with embarrassment. Draco seemed set on humiliating him from dusk until dawn. “Come on?” Draco asked again.  
  
“I think humiliating me is good for you,” Harry growled, shoving Malfoy back roughly and spinning on his heel to glare at him face-to-face. “The only bad habit you’ve indulged the last few weeks is _me_ and the only affect that seems to have on your health is a better complexion!” His own cheeks coloured even as he said it, that trademark grin stretching across that smug face once more. “Stop grinning at me! And get out of here!” He insisted. “I’ll meet you from work with the bloody knickers, alright?!”  
  
He loathed how this had become _normality_ for him, this torment, this prison. Though he supposed, he had always made do with a less than perfect life, it was a tough call as to what was worse though, Privet Drive or Malfoy Manor…  
  
 _At least Malfoy wants me,_ he thought with morbid gratitude. _He hurts me and he humiliates me, but he still wants me, even his mother said so._  
  
Malfoy smiled. “Fine, more fun for me if it's a surprise,” He didn’t stop grinning as he took a few steps out of the bathroom door and reached for his jacket that was hanging on the wardrobe door. “Don't be late!” Draco instructed, grabbing his wand and shoving it in his pocket.  
  
“What do you want me to do while you’re gone?” Harry called out to him, rushing out the bathroom to catch the blond before he left. And without leaving room for Malfoy to answer, he quickly added, “Only…it’s been weeks since I left the house and I… You said it was my birthday and I…” He winced, why was he _asking_ permission?! It was preposterous! Malfoy was his husband not his _master. That’s not how he sees it though,_ thought Harry, as he chewed his lip, pondering the best way to answer, and to push the pathetic hesitation from his voice.  
  
His thoughts drifted to the cabin fever he had been prey to of late. He hadn’t stepped foot outside the house since Ron and Hermione’s _visit_ , since his partnerships with the Weasleys had always been paper-based, (and his actual presence was more voluntary than anything) he had been restricted in things to do while Malfoy was at work. Sometimes he wished he had protested his freedom to continue with his visits to the shops and bookstores, the way it had been, but then he remembered why…  
  
 _I was too scared to face them,_ he thought. But waiting all day in his and Draco’s suite for the blond to return from work to continue their ritual torment was soul-destroying. And he’d be damned if he hadn’t actually started _longing_ for the unneeded punishments, if only to end the unbearable silence and boredom. He needed to get out of here for a bit and breathe fresh air.  
  
 _If you really want it you’ll have to forsake a little pride_ , he realised and surveyed Malfoy carefully as he asked, “Can I visit the Weasleys while you’re out? I haven’t spoken to them even since…since that day and I…if you’re going to be out…” He trailed off hopefully, weighing his chances of a yes or no answer. They were anything but even.  
  
“I don't see why not. It will probably do you some good to get out of this house won't it?” Draco smiled. Harry was astonished. Was he being kind? _He seems pleased when I play the dutiful house-wife for him_ , Harry thought, bewildered by Draco’s mood-swings as ever. “In any case, it's your birthday. Even I would feel remorse if you had to sit alone in this room all day with no one to share it with,” Draco murmured as he opened the door. “Just… Just don't forget to meet me,” He finished, giving Harry a fleeting smile before closing the door. How was it he could be so cruel and then act like _that_ in the space of twenty-minutes?  
  
Harry stood there, stunned for a moment. He had to double-take on what had just happened. Malfoy had been… _pleasant_ to him? He blinked, staring at the lingerie in his hand, studying his _gift_ thoughtfully. It was meant to humiliate but there had been some tenderness in those eyes and those touches as well. After washing the sweat, the sex and aches from his body, he watched his flustered reflection in the mirror.  
  
Before he realised what he was doing, he pulled the panties up over the length of his legs and stared at himself, fidgeting awkwardly at the sight of the bulge his limp cock created in the sheer fabric. “I can’t believe I agreed to this,” he thought, feeling quite perverted as he all-but _fled_ from the mirrors and yanked on his clothes.  
  
It hadn’t occurred to him until he was half way down the hall to the entrance hall (the only place he _knew_ there to be a fireplace connected to the floo network) that he could have put the panties on just before he went to meet Malfoy. Descending the obsidian, marble stairs slowly, he had just decidied to turn back when a smooth, deep voice shattered his thoughts. “Good day, Harry.”  
  
Green eyes shot up, wide and cautious at the sight of Lucius Malfoy, staring up at him from the foot of the curving staircase. Harry swallowed, debating on making an excuse to turn back, but then deciding against it. He hadn’t backed down to Lucius when he was a death eater with his wand to his throat and he wouldn’t do it now…  
  
“Err… Good day?” Harry tried as he passed Lucius as widely as he could without being rude, but paused when the snake-head of that cane caught the crook of his elbow, staggering his steps and causing him to stop and face him. “Can I… _help_ you, Mr Malfoy?” He asked, shifting uncomfortably under that gaze. Honestly, it was as if the man _knew_ he was wearing something perverted under his trousers – if he _did_ know, however, he said nothing to that affect.  
  
“I do hope my son is taking good care of you?” The taller man lent in and placed his gloved hand upon Harry's face. “Especially on one's birthday. I would have thought he would stay home with you today?” His voiced mellow and slow, almost seductive like Draco's, but imbued with a dangerous, chilling venom. “Off to mingle with the Weasleys, I assume?” He clucked his tongue with disgust at the idea of mixing with them. Even now, after the war, the Malfoys harboured a particularly strong hate for the red-headed _‘blood-traitors’._  
  
Harry flinched away from Malfoy’s hand and glared up at him, not a flicker of fear in his eyes. “I’m to meet him from his work this evening,” he said stiffly, turning from his _father-in-law_ to head towards the grand, overpowering fireplace, and seized a handful of powder from the pot at the side, not realising Lucius had followed him until he turned to step into the hearth, jumping slightly at the sight of the older man watching him a few feet away.  
  
“Is there anything else, _Sir_?” he asked with the kind of false politeness he used to offer Snape before the war.   
  
“I was merely wondering what my son got you for your birthday – or has he not given it to you yet? Well either way, we will all be dining tonight in celebration in the main dining hall. I do so hope you and Draco feel up to coming, my wife has been a little _overzealous_ in her planning of the meal…” The taller blond just stood there, cane in hand with no hint of a smile and Harry frowned confusedly. It seemed to be what Lucius Malfoy _wasn’t_ saying that he had to be wary of…  
  
“See you at dinner, Sir,” Harry replied, not liking the way the man edged towards him slightly and threw the powder into the grate. The world twisted and he choked as he inhaled the soot, gasping for air as he whirled and stumbled out into the familiar warmth of the Burrow’s Kitchen. He pounded his chest, struggling to compose himself as he wavered on his feet, his whirling vision coming to rest upon the figures watching him from that same old wooden table.  
  
“Hi,” He said awkwardly, straightening his glasses to better look at the faces of Mr and Mrs Weasley, (the latter bouncing a chuckling Hugo on her knee) and Hermione, Ron and George. “I… Can I come in?” He asked, not fully hoping for a warm reception from everyone after how he had behaved like a coward before…  
  
“Oh, Harry dear, yes come in, make yourself at home,” Mrs Weasely insisted, rushing to her feet and pulling him into a tight hug. Hermoine and Ron rushed over quickly, two vastly different expressions on their faces.  
“Let you free, did he?” Ron accused sulkily, regardless of Harry’s unease.  
“Shut up, Ron. He did what he thought was best so drop it,” Hermoine admonished, turning towards her friend, “Right Harry?”  
  
Harry nodded awkwardly as Mrs Weasley released him, pressing an excited Hugo into his chest as she busied herself with laying an extra lunch place for him at the table. “I’m sorry,” he said to his two best friends, jostling their son into his lap as he sat down, “I just… I was tired and in pain, I just…” He paused, eyes falling slightly. “I was ashamed, alright?” He admitted, his voice stiff with the bitterness laying beneath the surface.   
  
“Well…” Hermione paused for a thoughtful moment, “I must say, of all the people to be stuck in a situation like this with – _Malfoy_ …” She cringed, not even wanting to imagine what that must be like. Ron remained silent and she continued. “Well that doesn't matter, you're here now and we’re going to celebrate,” She finished, smiling as she produced a present from the counter. “See, don't say we don't think of you, we were going to send them but…”  
  
Harry smiled warmly, relief flooding his cheeks instead of humiliation. This was the first time in weeks he had felt so healthy. The dying July breeze whisked in through the open windows and he inhaled deeply, listening to Mrs Weasley’s fussing to Mr Weasley, George’s chatter and Hugo’s incoherent gurgling.   
  
“It’s bad,” he explained to Ron and Hermione, when he was sure the others were too occupied to listen. His voice was even, unaffected, he wish he could remain that way when the blond demon was right in front of him. He shuddered and he knew that after they had seen the marks on his body, the _piercings_ they knew of some of his tortures, but he would never dream of delving into them any deeper…  
  
“Sometimes it’s…he has moments where he’s _normal_ , though,” he added, confusion twisting his features. “And I never know what to expect.” A small, flickering smirk danced across his lips then, his troubles fading from his face. “Let’s not talk about him anymore – I have to meet him when he finishes at five as it is…”   
  
Hermione smiled sadly, she hated this situation, but what could she do? “Harry, you would tell us wouldn't you? I mean…if things got… _that bad_?” She watched his face flourish with an overwhelming sorrow and pressed on. “I just…I can't stand seeing you hurt, after everything you have been through…”   
  
“Hermione, he was the one who took down _You Know Who,_ I think he can handle a ferret like Malfoy,” Ron sniggered. Harry forced a smile.  
“I suppose you’re right,” Hermione tried, looking over to Harry once more, her eyes shining with concern. “I just worry about you, we _all_ do.”  
  
Harry sighed tiredly, setting a hand on her shoulder. “If it’s anything I can’t handle, I promise, you and Ron will know.” She seemed appeased by that, knowing he had never made a promise he wouldn’t try with all his might to keep, and allowed the subject to drop just as Mrs Weasley plopped a huge chocolate muffin in front of Harry.  
  
“It’s no birthday cake, I wasn’t sure you would be coming this year so I hope this will do,” Mrs Weasley said sweetly and Harry smiled.  
“No, thank you, it’s perfect,” he insisted, tearing off a bit and handing it to an excited Hugo, who was reaching for it with his pudgy fist. “You have that bit, your mother will kill me if you eat the whole thing,” he laughed, catching Hermione’s warning glare out of the corner of his eye.  
  
“It is most odd, Harry,” Mr Weasley chimed in, finally breaking away from his talk with George, “You look much more filled out than last I saw you, so you’ve been eating better and yet you look so very pale.”   
Harry flushed a little as all eyes turned to him and shoved a bit of the birthday muffin in his mouth distractedly.   
“The Malfoys have flexible meal times but I always get food pressed on me – and dinner is a table affair so they watch me like hawks, but I suppose I haven’t been sleeping that well,” Harry attempted, hoping that would be enough for them. Mrs Weasley looked suspicious, however and that unnerved him, like Hermione, she had a way of deducing what wasn’t being said…  
  
“It’s weird thinking of you as Harry Malfoy now,” George jumped in, saving him from whatever might have been on the tip of Mrs Weasley’s tongue. “Bloody unnatural if you ask me…”  
“Well, for the good of the masses and all that,” Harry countered lightly, clearing his throat loudly. “I fancy doing something, something entirely _un_ -Malfoy,” he said, with a broad smile.  
  
“What you got in mind?” George jumped in with a smirk, “We could always go out for a bit? Play some wizard chess, or go into town?” He hopped over and ruffled Harry's hair.  
“Well, why don't we all go, make it a family occasion?” Mrs Weasley suggested.   
”I think Harry would prefer to go somewhere with his friends, not the whole family,” Ron insisted. Hermione sent him an adomonishing glare.   
”Well, Harry my boy, the decision is up to you,” Mr Weasley said.  
  
“Maybe a trip into Diagon Alley?” Harry prompted, handing baby Hugo back to Hermione when he started fussing, “I haven’t been there since – well I don’t remember when!” He got to his feet, smiling sincerely. “Besides, then Hugo can have his first ice-cream, courtesy of me!”  
  
It turned out that Hugo hated travelling by floo as much as he did, though at least the boy didn’t whirl around and fall flat on his face every time he tried to leave it. _Not until he walks at least,_ Harry had thought. Diagon Alley was bursting with life and merriment as always, full of parents rushing their children about as they struggled through the crowds to get their bits and pieces for their trip back to Hogwarts no doubt.  
  
Harry watched them go, the Weasleys so lost in their light-hearted chatter behind him that they did not notice the longing in his gaze. He had remembered the excitement, the thrill of discovering he was a wizard, of shopping for things with Hagrid for his journey back to Hogwarts, remembered the warmth that spread through his chest as he walked these streets. He had mused more than once, what it would be like to be the fussing, doting parent, sending his child off to the scarlet train, but now, he supposed, he’d never be able to…  
  
“Come now, Harry,” Hermione murmured beside him, bouncing her son on her hip, “You’re not allowed such a long face on your birthday.”  
Harry smiled, leading them into Florean Fortesque’s Ice-cream Parlour to treat them all to an ice-cream – though the elder Weasleys protested.  
  
“He’s grown up so much since I last saw him,” Harry said distantly as Ron spooned some of the vanilla sundae into the baby’s mouth, watching him grin at the taste and wave his arms for more. “It must be nice, watching something you created grow like that.” He startled himself when he heard the words spoken aloud – he hadn’t intended to certainly, and now his two best friends were regarding him thoughtfully.  
  
“Don't tell me you're feeling broody, Harry, surely not?” Hermione joked, but Harry wasn’t amused. Ron looked over to Hermione, giving her a look that spoke volumes – of course they knew, children, and the future of a family, things like that, were all out of the question for Harry now.   
  
“Look, if you ever…if you ever want to take Hugo for a day or two, me and Ron would be happy to have some time alone?” She tried with a smile. But Ron threw in his protest swiftly.  
“I don't think so, I'm not having Hugo anywhere near those stinking _Malfoys_!”  
  
Harry laughed hollowly, “It’s alright, I agree, I don’t think Malfoy Manor is the best place to have a child.” He stared at the babbling baby for a moment longer, smiling despite himself before getting to his feet. There was nothing but truth in his words.   
“Harry,” Hermione pleaded, throwing Ron a dirty look. “Don’t go – you don’t have to leave to meet Malfoy yet, surely you–”  
“I’ll be back,” he assured her with an entirely forced smile, “I’ve just got to…” His words trailed off and he shrugged apologetically. “I’ll be back,” he promised, before departing their company.  
  
The changing summer air whisked into his lungs, washing the longing from his heart and expression – there was no sense in yearning for that which he could never have. _Although I suppose in a few years, Malfoy will no doubt need an heir and will employ some woman to give him one_ , he thought bitterly, thinking of the greatest torment, of having to watch Malfoy with a child when he would never have one. _He made it so, he knew all along,_ he thought wretchedly, his head hanging low on his shoulders – not looking where he was going. _I can’t sleep with anyone else but him, so I can never…_  
  
A sudden collision, and a grumbling sound of annoyance shattered his thoughts as he slammed into someone. He stumbled back, apologising dazedly, only to stare in surprise up at someone he had not seen since this entire nightmare had begun. “Professor Snape,” he acknowledged politely. The man raised a brow at him in equal surprise.   
  
 “Surely, Harry, you should call me Severus by now, you aren't a little boy at Hogwarts anymore, you're a grown man.” The dark professor started. “While you are here actually, take this?” The man handed him a small potion that seemed to glow faintly and saw Harry's eyebrows tilt in confusion. “If ever you feel… _overwhelmed_ by your husband’s actions, you should drink that,” Snape explained, which begged the question, was Snape aware of his treatment? And if so, why wasn’t he helping him? Unless this potion was all the help he could offer, given the circumstances? Harry flushed. Could he possibly know, right now, that he was wearing a frilly pair of girl’s knickers underneath his trousers?  
  
“I…I don’t know what you mean,” Harry insisted weakly, but pocketed the vial anyway, he had come to trust this man since the end of the war, and if it would alleviate the pain, who was he to argue? “But thank you anyway.”  
“I think you know exactly what I mean, Harry,” Severus insisted darkly, “I have known the Malfoys and their ways, and I have known your young husband since he was born – you need not admit it, but do not insult my intelligence by insisting on a _happy marriage_. That boy, as he is, is not capable of anything normal.”  
  
“If you say so,” Harry shrugged, moving to turn from his once potion’s teacher, only to have the man set a hand on his shoulder, preventing his departure.   
  
“You may not care, but you need to know; Draco is very misguided, and I believe somewhere inside him he has a heart full of all manner of perplexing emotions. This _marriage_ you both share, may not be such a bad thing. Take the time to get to know him and give him a chance, there may be reasons for his behaviour you cannot know, or haven't even _begun_ to consider, _Harry_. After all,” The professor paused for a moment, scanning the bustling world around them with suspicious, dark eyes before continuing. “He has always held a rather large fascination with you – _always._ ” He finished darkly.  
  
“Right,” Harry answered stiffly, pulling his shoulder from Snape’s grasp and moving away from him. “See you soon, Professor,” he replied as he moved to quickly return to the Weasleys. His eyes shot to his wrist-watch quickly as he re-entered the ice-cream parlour. He had a few hours left before he had to meet his _husband_ at the very least, though with the way the silk kept gliding seductively over his most sensitive places, he wished his doom would arrive sooner rather than later…  
  
* * *  
  
Draco shuffled through his papers, pressing his thin-rimmed, reading glasses up the bridge of his nose and blankly gazing down at the many charts and notes he had made for the week’s editions of the _Daily Prophet.  
_   
As he touched his quill to the parchment, his brain ached. _Why was I like that with him? I was almost… I was nice to him – considerate of him_. He bit into his lip at his foolishness. This marrage wasn't some whirlwind romance. Harry was his, he didn’t _have_ to pamper and bend to his will…  
  
A knock at the door drew him from his thoughts, and it opened slowly to reveal a meek girl on the threshold. She regarded him warily before daring speech. “Your husband is here, Mr Malfoy,” she said knowingly, and with an ascenting gesture of Draco’s head, she stepped back, Harry stepping into the room. The dark-haired boy remained still and silent until the girl departed, closing the door behind her.  
  
“I was _lucky_ enough to have a copy of the front page article from a few weeks ago thrust at me on my way through your pack of rabid reporters,” Harry sneered as he walked forward, tossing the old newspaper onto the desk. It slid across the polished surface, right under Malfoy’s nose so that the humiliating picture was face-up, staring him straight in the face. Malfoy grinned smugly.  
  
“I had a feeling you’d make our _wedding_ front page news but that picture – of us – _kissing_!” Harry spat, his hands curled into fists at his side. “I can’t even believe it! I don’t know what’s worse, that or the outright _lies_ , the rumours you let them print about where we might have gone for our _honeymoon_. What the _hell_ Malfoy?!”   
  
Draco laughed deeply, “Don't get your knickers in a twist, _Malfoy_ , it was printed a while back. The real story they are intrested in is what happens next.” With that, Draco got to his feet, breezing past Harry to lock the door. After taking the paper from Harry's hands he placed it on the side and pulled him in close.  
  
Damn his addiction for this closeness – he had never had it before, with _anyone,_ why did he long for it now?  
  
Their groins touched through the thin layers of their clothes and Draco leant in to that ear and whisepred heatedly. “Talking of knickers…?”  
  
“I’m wearing them,” Harry declared wretchedly, it had been such a good day that were it not for the silky pleasure of the debauched lingerie he might have forgotten the fate that had awaited him here. “You might have told me you were letting the public assume such radical details about our married life – there wasn’t one true thing in there except that I hadn’t been seen outside the manor for weeks,” he persisted, but Draco merely clucked his tongue impatiently, evidently bored of the subject.   
  
“Look, why does it even matter? Who cares what the public think, it's just a bit of fun for me to mess with people’s heads – it’s what they _want_ to hear anyway. It’s what father wants them to see,” He stated impatiently. “Now, shutup and take your trousers off already, I want to see,” He instructed, knowing full well Harry's grumbles were probably just to distract him from what lay ahead. When Harry remained still, he fisted his fingers around a clump of his hair, tugging his head backwards to expose the long line of his throat.  
  
“Fine,” Harry snarled, wrenching himself free and bringing his hands to work at his belt. “And you can drag my name through your bloody paper, you can let them think we’re this _loving couple_ , it’s not my name anymore anyway.” He punctuate his words by tugging viciously on the zip of his jeans and kicked them down to the floor before stepping out of them.  
  
To his credit, he didn’t waver, his eyes were hard, set in confidence as he glared at Malfoy, even if those smouldering, silver eyes were fixed with dizzy arousal on the semi-erect bulge pressing against the sheer lingerie. “That what you wanted?” Harry asked stiffly.  
  
“What’s this confidence? I won’t let you go to see the Weasleys if you intend to come back all defiant,” He began. The blond dipped his head down darkly, though his eyes remained fixed on his expression, his tongue dancing over his wicked lips as he felt familiar twitches and tingles rush through his body. The image before him was so bloody hot! His heated gaze caressed the shape of Harry’s half-erect member, pressing against the boundaries of the sheer fabric. “I certainly have good taste, don't you agree, Harry?”  
  
“Good taste in what? The knickers or my cock?” Harry asked brusquely, smirking broadly at Malfoy’s surprise. If Malfoy thought his fight had been crushed in a few weeks he was mistaken. He could give in, he could even beg if it got him what he wanted, but he wasn’t about to swoon every time those eyes turned their heat on him. His limp member, however, twitched lightly with interest at Malfoy’s close proximity, and he growled impatiently.  
  
“Get it over with, whatever you want hurry up so that we can get going – we still have to eat dinner with your parents.” He tried for indifference, and thought it came across that way, so why was the wanker smiling at him?  
  
“You are so hot when you're angry,” Draco hummed. “And of course I was referring to my choice in underwear. If I could choose the pefect penis, yours wouldn't be it.” He trailed his tongue down into the dip of Harry's collarbone and dragged it down, over and around those peirced nipples, past his belly and over the hardening cock that stood rigid behind the silk lining. “Hmmm, the smell – so musky and dirty, like you have already cum once today without me present?” Draco teased. “Did you get hard and lose control thinking about wearing these pretty knickers for me?” He hissed. “Surely not?”  
  
“I didn’t cum!” Harry declared indignantly, swatting Malfoy away and stepping back on shaky legs, his tone insulted. “Any bloke would get a boner from silk rubbing his prick!” Blood rushed to his cheeks, colouring them at the echoing _complement. “You are so hot when you're angry…”_ He hated it when the Blond spoke to him like that! As if they were _lovers_ or a proper married couple!  
  
“And if my inadequate equipment is so disappointing then why are you so eager to slobber all over it?!”  
  
“Hmmm, you are extremely clueless aren't you, Harry,” Draco hissed. “I suppose you could say I have to make do with the tools I have in the shed, so to speak.” Moving his hand lower, his fingers trailed over the silky fabric and along the stiff member. “Just because you don't come with the perfect appendages dosen't mean I don't want to devour every last bit of you… Lick you into submission until you cannot deny what you feel anymore,” he whispered sexily as he rubbed his cheek against the tented silk. “Hmmm…”  
  
“Stop seducing me,” Harry snapped, “I’m not your tool, or your lover – I’m your bloody prisoner. I have to fuck you, I don’t have a choice so just get to it and skip the formalities!” His final words shuddered out with a trembling hiss. Resigned to his fate, he brushed his open shirt from his shoulders (anything to distract himself from the mouth tracing every embroidered slither of lace over his cock). He hardened despite himself, but the reaction was only natural, he had realised. It was the begging, the surrender he loathed himself for, not the initial hard-on which he could not help.  
  
“Malfoy! I mean it!”  
  
“Fine.” Draco suddenly grabbed Harry's arms and spun him around, walking him forwards into his desk and shoving his head into the papers he had just been working over, watching them scatter to the floor. He held Harry's head roughly against the cold wooden surface of the desk. “You wanna play nasty? Well here we are…” Draco pressed his head into the desk a few times before releasing him and turning him over so they were facing again. Harry's arms propped him up on the desk while Draco hovered over him, lingering like an ominous shadow.  
  
“Touch it. Touch your cock through the knickers, _that’s_ an order,” Draco growled darkly.  
  
This wasn’t better, this wasn’t _better_ but it was certainly easier. Direct orders and pain he could handle, it was when it was coupled with pleasure and endearments that were only part lies that his body betrayed him, only then that he became lost. Resting his heated cheek on the polished desk, Harry hissed at the coolness of the wood on his back. One arm reached around, his fingers teasing the thin trail of hair leading beneath his underwear before he stroked the shape of his penis through the sheer material.  
  
Clenching his teeth against the groan that wanted to escape, Harry caressed his prick, fully aware of the damp patch growing at the front where he had leaked pre-cum earlier. And Malfoy was watching him, he could _feel_ it. _He is turning me into a masochist,_ Harry thought as he panted heavily.   
  
“Let yourself go and give me a show, Harry. Isn't the birthday boy supposed to shine on his special day?” Draco asked, toying with him as always. He walked sideways to the cabinet and opened the doors.   
  
“Also, use this,” he said, handing Harry another gift bag, similar to the one he had given him this morning. Harry’s face flushed when he saw the contents of what lay in this bag. “Whats wrong?” Draco chuckled, “A bit beyond you?” He knew how Harry felt about being challenge and how much this would infuriate him if his initiative and courage was questioned – like a typical gryffindor. Inside lay a ribbed, pink vibrator. “Well?”  
  
Part insulted, part disgusted, Harry couldn’t help but feel a little confused too. Malfoy had given him presents, entirely inappropriate, humiliating presents, but he had given them to him, and he had remembered his birthday in the first place – which was a shock in itself. Even the Dursleys had forgotten his birthday ritualistically and they had lived with him for _years_!  
  
 _Stop finding kindness where it doesn’t exist,_ Harry admonished himself. _You’re not weak, you’re not going to break so easily or be seduced by his offerings…_  
  
“W-Whatever,” Harry bit out, trying to sound composed as he reached for the object, but that was where he stopped. He wasn’t completely naïve, he knew what it was, what he didn’t know was how to work it. Releasing the growing bulge in his knickers briefly, Harry summoned his wand from the pocket of his jeans and pulled the fabric covering his arse aside awkwardly, sliding the tip of his wand into his tight, resisting entrance. A shallow groan from above him signalled Malfoy was watching intently – liking what he saw, and Harry hurried to withdraw his wand once the spell was cast, bringing his second _gift_ to his prepared arse.   
  
It was hard and unyielding, a bit spiteful as he pressed the ribbed toy through his muscles slowly. He gasped at the discomfort, unlike Malfoy’s cock it had no give at all and he winced at the initial entry, but the blond kept panting above him and Harry pushed it in to the hilt insistently, not wanting to draw the moment out. He’d regret the lack of care in a moment, he supposed.  
  
Sliding his fingers around to his cock again, he couldn’t withhold the groan as he stroked it to full hardness, his arse clenching around the _gift_. When it started to slide free, however, he jumped as Malfoy’s warm hand pressed against the base, keeping it lodged deep inside him. _So very deep,_ he thought.  
  
“Now, all you have to do is move on it,” Draco instructed, the silk from the knickers rubbing against his hand as he held the toy in place. He let out a groan as he felt his own penis push hard against the zip in his work trousers. “And then there's this…”  
  
Draco smiled deviously, turning the button at the base of the toy so it started to vibrate within him. Harry jolted upwards spasmodically, his mouth moving soundlessly as the vibrations shivered through his rectum. “How, does that feel? And no lies.”  
  
“Ahhh!” Harry gasped, wriggling and trying to control himself. Those sinful vibrations, they were making his cock tremble along with his twitching muscles and he slid his hand under the waistband of his lingerie, fisting his cock roughly, his leaking head brushing deliciously into the silk lining.   
  
“It – it feels _good, alright_?!” Harry gasped, wincing at the intensity of the vibrations assaulting his pleasure spot. “Y-You… _wanker_!”   
  
“What’s that? Technically _you_ are the wanker as you're the one touching yourself,” Draco laughed, patronising Harry even more, he had reverted back to that perverted tormentor again and he leant in close, whispering debauched words over Harry’s ear.  
  
“You're a little slut who gets off on this, aren't you? My gifts, my toys, and these silk knickers – you like the thrill you get when I make you do these things, don't you?” Draco breathed, his tongue wet and hot against that ear, his words practically _drizzling_ into it. “Tell me you want me to touch your cock and I might just touch it…”  
  
Harry grit his teeth together, those demeaning words making his pride bristle until he wanted to slap that smirk right off Draco’s face, not only because he was _right_ but because Harry wanted it – badly. “I – I’m not asking you for _anything_!” He snapped. Why did the blond always get off more on watching him squirm than actually getting any attention himself. _Most bizarre form of generosity,_ he thought through the haze of lust, loathing how his backside kept pushing onto the vibrating toy. “Hurry up and get yourself off so we can leave, already…”  
  
“I _am getting off_ just watching you, and why so desperate to get back? You can't seriously be worried about letting my parents down over dinner, can you? If we don't show on time, I'm sure they will know why…”  
  
Draco turned the vibratiion setting up higher and Harry flinched, almost falling forwards on his face. Luckily, Draco caught him by the shoulders and rocked him back against the desk. He pushed at Harry's shoulders, pressing him further down onto the large toy and chuckled darkly. “I'm actually surprised you can take this considering…” He started, losing the purpose of his words for a moment. “You shouldn't lie to me about the things you want, or it will just take longer to find satisfaction.”  
  
Harry tipped his head back, his mouth hanging open with groans of pleasure as Malfoy forced him back into the unbearable bliss. His legs shook with the effort and his toes curled as they went numb. “T-Touch…touch my cock – _please_!” He gasped out hazily, his eyes swimming with glassy ecstasy. Jerking insistently on his own cock, he growled with frustration as he felt it weep pearly pre-emission over his fist. It wasn’t as good as it would be by someone else’s – no _Draco’s_ hand…  
  
He was rough and unyielding and it disgusted him to think that _that_ was what it took to make him cum, but it was true.  
  
“P-Please!” He wriggled a little in an attempt to entice him to concede quicker, and Malfoy replied with a cruel, seductive laugh in his sensitive ear. He shuddered deliciously. “That’s…” he cut himself off. He was _about_ to say ‘that’s good!’  
  
“Heh,” Draco hummed, so lightly he didn't think Harry heard. He nibbled gentled on those tender earlobes, capturing them between his wet lips as more wicked words rolled off his tongue. “Come on slut, you have to beg harder than that, the more honest you are with me, the better the reward will be. Little sluts don't get rewards for half-arsed pleads,” He said, reaching down into the underwear and grazing Harry’s aching erection with the very tips of his fingers. Tormenting the results he wanted out of him. “I know you want me…”  
  
Thrusting his hips forward into the teasing touch, Harry whined deep in his throat, turning his head away so that Malfoy couldn’t see his face when he said, “Yessss! I _want you_ – I wish I didn’t, but I do – _please_!” He didn’t like most of the things he suffered, but Malfoy seemed to see to it that enough of the pleasures that would make him beg so nicely were scattered between his tortures. It was so frustrating, being brought to his knees by the petty needs of his body! But even more frustrating, was how much he wanted to hate Malfoy, wanted _hurt_ him, but he couldn’t…  
  
And why?  
  
“Touch me! Malfoy, let me cum…” He’d learnt exactly what Malfoy liked to hear in the last few weeks, and knew that it all ended quicker if he surrendered.  
  
“Hmm, that’s right Harry,” Draco hissed, finally easing his hand over the tip of his weeping prick. Rubbing his palm over the top in circles, he softly stroked downwards, sliding the foreskin away from the head with it, seducing a low groan from Harry’s lips. “You like this?” Draco asked, wanting to hear Harry speak while he touched. “You like this a lot don't you?” A line of saliva dripped off his lips and he watched it fall on the twitching cock in his hand, splashing over the heated tip. He rubbed it gently into the oozing slit.   
  
Harry’s head jerked with crazed spasms as those fingers tugged on his heated cock. He groaned, turning his head to the side to pant heavily in Draco’s ear as that trail of saliva trickled over his pick. Maybe it was just because he’d only recently been a virgin that this was so good – it certainly couldn’t _all_ be Malfoy’s touch…  
  
 _Although he’s no doubt well practised,_ he thought, a spark of jealousy burning in his stomach at the recollection of those women, sprawling all over him like cats in heat.  
  
In a moment driven by the ridiculous jealousy, Harry strained his neck to press his mouth ardently in Draco’s ear, catching the lobe between his teeth. Malfoy wanted his pretty little submissive house wife, but he’d married a man, so he’d have to be reminded of that. “How does it feel up my arse, Mr Malfoy?” Harry taunted, his voice deep and husky with lust and anger. He didn’t know why he hadn’t realised before – Malfoy was entitled to fuck him when he wanted, but it didn’t say Harry had to play the innocent, virginal rape victim every time…  
  
“Look at you, how pathetic,” he crooned, triumphing when Draco squirmed against him, gripping his cock tightly. “Wriggling all because I’m breathing in your ear?”  
  
“That…that’s…shut up, you slut!” Draco snarled back, shoving Harry's head away from his oversenstive ear. That had felt too good, that all too hot breath steaming out over Harry's lips…  
  
“Don't get cocky!” Draco groaned, his face flushing even as he pushed Harry's backside into the buzzing toy in punishment. Harry winced and Draco’s flush faded when he watched him clench tighter around the object. “That will teach you for speaking to me like that.”  
  
Far from annoyed, Harry felt victory soar, triumph. He was getting to him – because he was right! “Hmm,” he murmured, laughing slightly around his arousal. “Oh, Mr Malfoy, you treat me so roughly – it’s because you like me, isn’t it?” He felt Malfoy stiffen again. Felt the bulge of his cock through those trousers, pressing eagerly against his hip every time he jerked forwards in reaction to the vibrations coursing through him.  
  
“You want me so badly your cock is going to burst just because I’m talking to you, like this?” There was amusement, and blatant arousal and suggestion in his voice, and he wondered how long it would take to tease Malfoy into more drastic action.  
  
Draco seized hold of Harry's wrist and forced him backwards, Harry's head colliding to the desk once again, this time harder and with much more force. Draco’s eyes shadowed over, glaring darkly into Harry's with utter fury. “Just shut the hell up, whore,” He began, “You're the one who gets off on this. You're the one who likes _me_ touching _you_ and talking to _you_ with filthy, degrading words.” He paused for a fleeting moment to gather his breath. “I'll punish that tight arsehole of yours for your runaway mouth,” He gasped, groin too hot and heavy against Harry's.  
  
“Don’t you like to be teased, _Draco_ ,” Harry purred as seductively as he could, feeling the cock against his arse tense madly at the use of his first name. “You’re the one that was ‘getting off on just watching me’, weren’t you?” He was panting, shamelessly grinding into that hand and the toy. He wished he had realised this before. He both dreaded and _longed for_ these moments, these _sessions_ , with any luck he’d also have Malfoy partially dreading them, dreading the teasing confidence that accompanied the torture.  
  
There was a moment then, when Draco’s grip slackened and Harry shoved him back from his body hard. The blond growled furiously with annoyance but before he could retaliate, he was frozen in place by the sight of Harry reaching behind himself and dragging the thick, long shaft from his hole. The rim of flesh twitched with spasms, reluctant to release the vibrations and it left him gaping and vulnerable as Harry tossed it to the floor, still vibrating. “Watching me, aren’t you, Mr Malfoy?” Harry smirked, hopping up to prop himself on the edge of Draco’s desk, his arse hanging off it slightly. And Draco flew at him.  
  
Harry jerked in surprise but his eyes betrayed no fear as Malfoy seized him roughly by the throat. The choking, _suffocating_ pressure made him squirm for breath, but not mercy and Harry’s smirk remained as he wrapped his legs around Draco’s body, pulling him hard against him. “You’re…so obsessed with me,” Harry managed out despite the pressure of that thumb on his windpipe, “It _hurts_ you – that’s why you have to hurt me!”  
  
“I am _not_ obssessed with you – where the fuck did you hear that?!” He growled, anger overiding the boiling blood beneath his searing skin as his fingers pressed deeper into that neck with bruising pressure. His hard cock pressed urgently into Harry’s, and he swore it was melting with his words. He was so furious, but he was so aroused in the same instance. What was this, this new confidence Harry was showing, this arrogance he hadn’t seen since they were both stroppy school boys?  
  
Irrevocably drawn in, Draco grunted, his hands sliding up to give the briefest of touches to Harry’s face before diving into those messy locks. He yanked his head up sharply until their lips met with fierce passion. He slid his tongue in, battling with Harry's as he shoved passed and deep into the depths of the boy’s mouth. But not for long. He tore away from him and the kiss broke, saliva splattering across those lips, still upturned in a victorious smile.  
  
“Stop grinning at me like that!” Draco yelled heatedly. “I'm not fucking obssessed with you!” He repeated. “I'm _not_!” His eyes were burning now, searing the very flesh from Harry’s bones.  
  
“If you’re not – then why do you kiss me when you’re angry?” Harry mused, and as if on cue, Draco sneered and stumbled backwards – but not quickly enough. Harry’s fingers ensnared his hair, tugging him hard back to his mouth. Draco had begged him to tell the truth before, but it turned out the truth was his weakness. Harry slid his tongue in inexpertly, clumsily tracing the roof of the blond’s mouth and the slick heat of his tongue. Drawing back he reached between them, deftly undoing the black trousers Draco still wore as he spoke.  
  
“You’re so furious you could hit me, but you’d rather fuck me!” He hissed seductively, biting the tender earlobe he had licked earlier until Draco shuddered against him, but whether it was rage or arousal, it wasn’t to be known for sure. “You could kill me, but if I bent over this desk right now and begged you to fuck me you wouldn’t be able to resist, would you? Obsessed by yearning, like a child who never got the toy he wanted…”  
  
Malfoy lunged for his throat again but Harry smirked and tugged Draco’s now freed erection between his cheeks, his ankles locking behind the blond’s waist and bringing him into the cage of his thighs as he pulled the neglected prick into his gaping, hungry entrance. “I’m the toy you never got, aren’t I, Malfoy?” He breathed sexily in his ear, brushing his cheek against Malfoy’s in release of his thrill. “You wanted to own me when we were eleven years old and you’ve never got over the idea of me refusing, have you?”  
  
Malfoy shuddered at Harry's tone, his cock standing upright and pressing into Harry’s hungrily, irritation struck him at the vocalisation of those bittersweet truths and he wrapped his fingers harshly around Harry’s throat. “Shut the hell up!” He yelled, pushing the boy's legs back against his shoulders so that he lay flat against the desk and shoving his prick roughly into the gaping hole.  
  
“Don't talk to me like you understand me better than _I_ do, you little pouf. Don’t you ever talk to me like that! You’ve forgot who you’re dealing with, I’m Draco Malfoy!” He bellowed, shoving his cock deep into Harry's slick channel with clenched teeth. “Draco…Malfoy…!” He grunted, his nails biting into Harry’s neck, even as the chosen one smiled through the pain. “You're the one who wants this, _dreams_ about it, even now your arse is _begging me_ for it! I'm not obssesed with you, and I _don’t_ want you!” He wasn't obssessed. He wasn’t!  
  
Harry smirked. He’d won, he was the one getting pounded into the desk but he’d still won, because he could tell the truth without falling into a blind rage. Malfoy was the liar now. He opened his mouth to speak again but before words left him, the hand holding his throat came up from the bruising pressure, smacking him so hard across the face that he fell limp against the desk for a moment. Harry saw stars, pain erupted in the side of his face and that was the last conscious thought that registered, before a tearing sound ripped through the silence of the room, and a strip of thick, brown duct tape sealed his mouth closed.  
  
He stared up at Malfoy complacently – a lack of reaction always irritated him more than anything. It didn’t matter how he tortured him now, because he was right, and what was sweeter, Malfoy knew it – he was suffering from these tortures as much as he…   
  
_More so, because he is the one dealing the torture, he can stop any time if he wants,_ Harry thought with a stab of pity in his chest, _but he can’t, because he needs it. He needs to hurt me because that’s the only way he knows how to deal with these feelings…whatever they are._  
  
“You won't ever speak that way to me again…got that?” Draco snarled placing his wand (that he had used to conjure the tape) back on the desk. Knowing full well Harry couldn't answer, he jerked his hips forwards, hard, his cock throbbing inside that tense body.   
  
“You like this, don't you?” The smug looked returned to Draco's features, when obviously Harry could not fight him. His superiority complex had hooked it’s claws in. “You won't ever speak to me like that again, will you?”  
  
Didn’t it occur to Malfoy that Harry was still in control? His arms were free, his wand was but a thought away – he could escape any time he wanted. But he didn’t, he let Malfoy have him, not only because he’d vowed to, but because he realised the meaning behind Snape’s words now – Malfoy needed him.  
  
 _Ever the martyr_ , he thought bitterly, wishing he would (as Ron put it) not be so ready to sacrifice himself for others.  
  
Harry closed his eyes, not giving Malfoy the pleasure of even seeing him as he allowed the aggressive pleasure assaulting his body to take him over. It still felt good, but his cock had wilted from the smack across his still throbbing face and the bruising building around his throat.   
  
Draco pulled out of Harry's body carelessly, glaring down at Harry’s limp cock and ripping the tape from his mouth. With a growl of annoyance he yanked him off the desk, shoving him down to his knees before him and before Harry could find himself, Draco had seized the back of his head and shoved his erection brutally down his throat.   
  
“This will teach you to go soft on me,” He sneered as Harry choked around him. Those words had stung him, no part of his soul untouched by Harry’s careless statements of truth. Why was he getting to him so badly? The blond was paying more attention now, watching Harry's every body movement, a wilting erection probably wouldn't even have registered. “Suck it. That’s right suck, _suck_!” Draco grumbled, pounding in and out of those bruised lips. “You're just my slut, my _whore_!”  
  
Harry winced, the fact that the blond’s prick had been in his arse seconds before revolting him and his hands flew up, pushing at Malfoy’s hips in an attempt to stop him from pushing frantically into his mouth. He choked and spluttered, the tip of the pulsing head crashing into the back of his throat. Cruel fingers knotted in his hair, holding him there, making him swallow it down as deep as he could.  
  
As if the violence, the force enticed his orgasm in quicker, Draco burst in his mouth with a furious groan and Harry gagged as the thick fluid shot straight down his throat. His eyes watered, tears from his struggle for breath escaped from his lashes and he shoved Malfoy back roughly, the grip on his hair relenting as he tumbled back to the floor.  
  
Harry coughed, kneeling up and leaning against the desk as his convulsing, raw throat slowly overcame the abuse it had taken. He glared at Malfoy, eyes glassy with moisture. “D-Don’t…don’t you _dare_ do that to me again, Draco Malfoy,” Harry snarled, yanking the stained lingerie from his body and pulling his trousers and shirt on swiftly. “I am _not_ your whore!”  
  
“You're my wife, it's the same thing, while you're married to me, you're anything I want you to be. And I'll do as I please,” Draco hissed, becoming more irritated with Harry's newly salvaged attitude. Tucking in his cock and doing up his trousers, Draco walked over to the desk again to pick up his wand. “Come on, you're the one who was so desperate to get back for dinner, lets go,” Draco grunted.  
  
Harry threw his _husband_ a filthy look, aiming his wand and a cleaning spell at himself before patting down his rebellious hair roughly. “One day I’ll just give up and throw myself off the roof just to escape you,” Harry growled exhaustedly, trailing through the office door after Malfoy and heading towards the nearest fireplace. There was no real force in his words but Malfoy snorted irritatedly in any case. The blond _hated_ the idea that his decisions would be taken out of his hands. _And more likely than not he’d be lost without me to unleash all that frustration out on…_  
  
Harry glanced up at Malfoy as the blond seized a handful of floo powder and stepped into the grate. He knew that all that anger, the distraught sadism came from somewhere, somewhere buried deep away from the surface of that perfect face and body, but he could not even begin to imagine what it was.  
  
Suddenly, that unoccupied hand short forwards, seizing his shirt roughly and dragging him in against the blond’s warm body. Harry slammed his eyes shut, just in time to see the emerald flames engulfing them, sending them hurtling back to Malfoy Manor.  
  
Draco stared down at Harry where he had fallen out of the grate, covered in soot and stepped out into the foyer. “Get up,” Draco snorted, barely giving him the time to move.   
  
“Oh, you're back,” Naricissa’s voice carried across to them as she entered the foyer, claiming a kiss on the cheek from her precious son before ushering him and Harry into the dining area. “We thought for a moment you weren't coming,” She smiled warmly at them, gesturing towards the end of the long table they usually occupied.  
  
“Err, of course we wouldn’t miss it,” Harry added, quickly following the gentle insistence of Narcissa sweeping him into his usual seat at Draco’s left. No sooner had he sat, however, than the woman caught his chin, gently but firmly, tilting his face up for her inspection.  
  
“Wherever did you get these bruises, Harry?” She asked coolly and Harry’s body froze. Just across the lavish dining room, he caught his reflection in the mirror lining the dresser and the sight of the purplish bruising around his throat and across his face made his stomach lurch. Why hadn’t he thought of them? He caught the apprehension, the concern on Draco’s features out of the corner of his eye – he couldn’t allow Narcissa to find out…  
  
“I just fell,” Harry explained, unconvincingly to Mrs Malfoy, tilting his face subtly from her grip. She didn’t look as if she believed him. “Draco let me go visit the Weasleys today, we took a trip to Diagon Alley, I suppose I wasn’t looking where I was going…”  
  
“For a mere fall they certainly look a quite painful.” She added, but decided not to press the subject, if there were another reason besides the one being given, she was sure it was one Harry didn't want her to know.  
  
Draco sat down at the table, next to Harry and looked over at his father, eyes lowered in respect. “Sorry we were late, we were held up…” He began, but Lucius shifted in his seat and cut across him impassively.   
“Draco, you should know better than that. However, at least you're here now,” His voice was cold and chilling. Draco looked away from him quickly and silently nodded, picking up his glass to sip his wine.  
  
Harry shivered at the iciness of those eyes as Lucius studied his only son. He could not help but be reminded of the elder Malfoy’s chief concern when Draco had been ‘wounded’ at his first Quidditch match as seeker in their second year – shame, embarrassment had been his first priority, not his son’s welfare. Even during the final battle, it seemed as if it was Narcissa who had been the one to turn them from Voldemort in aid of their son. Harry peered up at the family – no, _his_ family carefully as he started on his soup. It was a wonder that they hadn’t torn themselves apart before now…  
  
To his credit, Draco looked slightly thankful at his ‘cover-up’ but the gratitude had faded from those arrogant features as soon as they had come and Harry sighed. He didn’t know how long this would last, his martyr complex coercing him to play Malfoy’s _punching bag,_ but Snape had suggested that he was necessary – to help Malfoy.  
  
By the time they came to the main course, Harry was wincing with each mouthful, with every swallow. His throat was throbbing with pain, and he knew that all three Malfoys were watching his struggle closely.   
  
Draco chewed on his vegtables slowly, sliding his free hand under the table to rest on Harry's leg. He rubbed lightly over his thigh, watching Harry stiffen. “You don't look well Harry, did the Weasleys feed you something when you were there that disagreed with your stomach?” Draco asked derisively. The damn bastard was content on making him feel as awkward as possible in a situation where everyone’s eyes were already on him. “Pehaps you don't like meat?” Draco gibed, he wasn't referring to the food on Harry's plate either.  
  
“Not at all,” Harry chimed with false cheer, “I like meat, it’s not like the _rotten_ stuff I’m used to.” There was no room for Draco to misinterpret what he meant and he smirked back confidently, intent on not allowing Malfoy to unnerve him. When the elder Malfoys weren’t looking, he snuck his hand inside his pocket, tipping the clear contents into his water goblet. Draco caught him hiding the now empty vial away, but said nothing, even when Harry downed the potion easily. Snape had said to use it when Draco was…rough, after all…  
  
His insides were suddenly alight with an odd tingle. He swore he felt the cool liquid sliding down his throat and leaving an icy fire behind like heart burn. It slid into his gut and his stomach trembled menacingly. It felt as if his organs were merging and shifting and he gasped in shock, but clenched his teeth tightly, tipping forwards a little in his chair under the pain.   
  
What the…was Snape trying to poison him? He had _trusted_ him?! But no sooner had he thought that, than the shifting subsided to a dull, aching throb – the agony in his throat, the bruising in his backside and his cheek had faded, however, as if they had never been. But still that queasiness in his stomach? He frowned in confusion, maybe it was just a side-effect…?  
  
Draco rose a brow suspiously at Harry before continuing to eat his meal. He wasn't sure what it was Harry had just drunk, but he was sure it wasn't dangerous, Harry wasn't the type to be melodramatic like that. He was too much of a bloody hero. “Well, Malfoys only have the finest meat,” Draco added, as if to clear up that comment Harry had made.  
  
“The fact has yet to be proved,” Harry murmured, only for Malfoy to hear, tentatively trying to clear his plate as much as possible, despite his stomach roiling menacingly. Perhaps he would have been safer with the bruises? Draco’s hand continued to rove over his thigh, risking the occasional, flicker of a touch to his abused cock. Harry fidgeted uncomfortably under that touch, struggling to withstand it.   
  
It was when dinner was apparated away and the dessert came that he fell still, despite Draco’s wandering hand…  
  
“Oh,” Harry said with awkward surprise. His eyes scanned the large birthday cake that had appeared between them. He knew it was probably just a formality but still…it shocked him. “Oh. Thank you!” He blushed a bit when Draco gave a snort of laughter at how pleased he was. _It is silly I suppose,_ Harry thought, _being affected so by a birthday cake that probably isn’t even sincerely given, but still…_  
  
The Dursleys had never even given him a cupcake that Dudley hadn't spat in!  
  
“I can't believe you served him up double chocolate when you're hard pushed to make that cake for me when the time of year arrives,” Draco snorted at his mother, looking her up and down with a twinge of jealously. She smiled softly and flicked back a lock of her platinum-blonde hair.  
“Isn't it only fair as it is his first birthday with us? Besides, I doubt you would have ever made anything for him. You probably would have just let the day just pass,” She began and Draco looked offended.  
  
“What's that supposed to mean?” He growled.  
  
Narcissa rested her chin on her interlocked fingers, gazing at her sulking son dotingly, as if he were still a child, whereas Lucius took another poised sip from his goblet, regarding his son and then Harry closely. “What your mother no doubt means, Draco, is that you can be quite callous at times – your husband didn’t _look_ as if he was being taken care of…” His voice trailed off, his cold eyes focused intently on Harry’s fading bruising. Beside him Draco tensed, but did not dare answer his father.  
  
Feeling panic swell alongside the uneasiness in his stomach, Harry leant forward and pulled a slice of the cake towards himself, ducking his head so that Lucius Malfoy couldn’t see the marrs on his flesh. “Thank you again, I honestly didn’t expect… I mean, you didn’t have to go to the trouble,” Harry said gratefully, “I never really celebrate my birthday. I even forgot it until Draco reminded me this morning…”  
  
“Oh, so my son did remember then?” Narcissa asked, clearly surprised that Draco had taken such a date into account. Though being as obssessed with him as Draco was, she shouldn't have really been shocked. “Will you two be going out this evening to celebrate further?” She pried. Lucius coughed slightly into his pudding.  
  
“A night in should suffice,” Draco stated bluntly.   
  
Harry concentrated hard on the luscious taste and texture of the chocolate melting on his tongue, hoping Draco didn’t mean he’d be claiming his _rights_ again tonight. He didn’t think he could handle it, even with the uneasiness in his belly subsiding slowly. “I don’t feel quite right in any case, Mrs Malfoy,” Harry added, honestly, though he was not sure why. “I think a relaxing evening indoors would be much better.” His eyes flicked to Draco briefly, as he swallowed the last mouthful of cake (though his stomach protested) and sat up straight in his chair. “Can I be excused?”  
  
Before Draco could even take his hand away from him under the table, Lucius Malfoy tipped his head to acknowledge his permission. “Of course, unless…Draco and yourself would care to join me for a drink before you settle?”  
  
Harry didn’t see Draco move, didn’t see him even _blink_ , but the hand on his thigh tensed so hard that those nails scraped him unwittingly. Green eyes flicked to the side subtly to see that Draco’s were fixed on his plate. There was something – Draco didn’t want him to interact with Lucius, did he? _If he knew how his father tried to corner me,_ he wondered, not understanding the anxiety in the hand on his leg, but not able to quash his need to ease it, Harry stood, bringing Draco up with him.  
  
“No thank you, Sir, I was thinking maybe Draco could…just relax with me,” he tried, not really sure _what_ married couples were meant to do when they weren’t… He flushed, walking brusquely from the table and not even breathing until the dining room doors were closed behind him and they were half way up the stairs.  
  
“Good descision,” Draco murmured while they ascended the stairs. “I don't think it's a good idea for you to be in a room with my father at any point without me.” Harry frowned at him in bewilderment, but didn't question it, just continued to follow him until he began speaking of other things that were completely unrelated to what he had just said.  
  
“Don't think that because you were presented with a cake that my mother likes you, she is merely doing her duty and forcing a smile in this mess of a situation called marriage.” Draco stomach plunged with jealousy. Pathetic and petty jealously. “My mother would never normally coincide with you're kind, I hope that you are aware of that?” He finshed and reaching the top of the stairs he and Harry walked the long corridor towards there part of the manor.  
  
Harry frowned, a pang of hurt striking in his chest, even though he knew why the blond was being such a brat. A small smirk flickered over his lips as he brushed past Malfoy and walked into their suite. He thought he heard Draco swear at him as he did so, but paid him no attention, kicking off his shoes and approaching the couch by the roaring fire. Making sure to throw a glance at the Slytherin behind him, he shrugged his shirt from his body and collapsed onto the couch, pulling one of the cushions underneath his roiling stomach.  
  
The smallest of sighs trickled from his lips as his eyelids fluttered. He heard Draco moving around behind him, but didn’t pay him much attention – which was probably frustrating the jealous brat more than anything, but he couldn’t find the strength to care. A few droplets of sweat trickled down his forehead. That potion of Snape’s was certainly getting rid of his bruises and pains but it had inflicted him with the insistent, dull throb of a stomach ache.   
  
Pressing his cheek into the plush arm of the couch, Harry frowned as a shadow cast over him, blocking the warm glow of the fire from his face and he cracked open his eyes, staring directly up into Draco Malfoy’s irritated expression. _Oh yes, ignoring him works better than any insult,_ Harry thought, smiling simply up at him.   
  
“Thank you, for letting me go see the Weasley’s earlier,” Harry said, watching Draco’s brow crease with confusion at the sudden statement. _Yep, keep him guessing_. “It was nice to get out the house.” He stared up at him for a moment, and then closed his eyes. The sudden, harsh slam of two fists either side of his head on the couch startled his eyes open and he glared up at the blond caging him in.  
  
“Stop talking to me like that!” Draco spat. Harry raised his eyebrows in partially feigned confusion. “You know what I mean, you little prick – this attitude of yours, this confidence, stop it!” His hands furiously gripped Harry's hair and tugged him up slightly off of the couch. He leant down and whispered hotly over the boy’s ear. _Two can play this game, then,_ the blond thought.   
  
“Bad little boys will be punished for back-chat. I hope you realise this?” Draco began, drawing his wand from his pocket.  
  
Harry turned his head to the side, yanking himself from Draco’s grasp and rolling over onto his side, facing away from those infuriated eyes. “Not tonight,” Harry murmured uninterestedly, as if his husband were the dullest thing he had ever seen, and pulled the cushion into his aching belly. “I’m tired, and my stomach hurts – that potion I took to counteract the bruising is making me queasy, can we just do this tomorrow?” He grumbled, not even opening his eyes.  
  
Draco stood, rather affronted at Harry's request. He reached down and yanked his arm hard so his face turned back at him. “No! We can't _just_ do it tomorrow!” He grunted, pulling Harry from the settee roughly. Harry crashed into the floor, a sharp pain bolting through his body as he collided with the floor. “Know your place, Harry,” Draco warned him.  
  
Harry glared, point-blank into the blond’s eyes, and swiped his leg forwards, knocking Draco flat on his arse. “I know my place you pathetic little ferret,” Harry snarled, “and just because it’s in your bed doesn’t mean I’m in _any_ way beneath you. You and your family would have gone straight to Azkaban for what you did in the war if it wasn’t for me! I make a lot of mistakes, but I assure you, allowing you to rule me for the last few weeks was the _biggest_ , and I won’t let you anymore.”   
  
Offering the infuriated blond a final look, he stepped over him to head through the bedroom door. Kicking his trousers off and crawling under the sheets casually, he jumped when he found Malfoy standing over him again. He really just couldn’t _not_ have the last word could he?  
  
Draco yanked the covers from Harry quickly, slamming his fist into the pillow beside his head. “I really don't like you when you're like this,” he began, “It – it doesn't suit you.” He paused there, looking into those emerald eyes for a moment before leaning in and taking those lips. They felt smooth and soft, and when he opened his eyes, their lips still pressed together he saw that Harry's eyes were still shut, a flush dusting his cheeks. Draco bit spitefully into that bottom lip, dragging it back with him a little ways as he broke the kiss.   
  
“I'm going to fuck you now,” Draco snarled, looming over him menacingly, “And as punishment, I'm going to fuck you… _as a girl_ …”  
  
Brow furrowing, Harry shimmied up the bed, sitting upright and confused – and wary. He hated the way his lips _tingled_ as he pulled back. “You can’t change me into a girl permanently,” he growled with confidence, “there are repercussions – _faults_ , it has to be with my consent and you certainly won’t get it! If you wanted a woman then you shouldn’t have married a man!” He thrashed underneath him, gasping out in pain when Malfoy’s hand shot out, pinning his torso spitefully against the bed.   
  
“Well I didn't ask for your consent did I? Besides, it won't be for forever, just for this _fuck_ ,” He hissed seductively, and pulling a polyjuice potion from his pocket he offered three different locks of hair to Harry. Truth be told he’d been planning this _so-called punishment_ all week, but Harry didn’t have to know that…   
  
“Now, which would you prefer? A blonde with a busty chest, a brunette with cute petite curves or a redhead with large nipples?”   
  
Staring furiously into Malfoy’s seductive face, Harry searched for a sign – a clue suggesting this was some joke, but there were none. Malfoy was serious. “Did you keep these in supply as trophies, or did you go out and fuck them all just to get these hairs for me?” Harry sneered, the smirk that stretched across Malfoy’s features signalling it was the latter.  
  
Snatching the brown hair, Harry tossed it sulkily into the potion vial. “Whatever did I do to deserve such a doting husband?” Harry spat, giving the blond a final, furious glare before seizing the open vial. “Happy birthday, Harry,” he murmured to himself wretchedly and downed the vile tasting potion.  
  
The potion slid down his throat like a sickening, thick goo. He gagged a few times as it went down, his stomach lurching forebodingly as that odd, disturbing bubbling churned beneath his skin. He looked down, watching his skin tremble as it shifted, his limbs and his skin changing. As soon as his chest started to swell he turned his head defiantly, determined not to look and a wince twisted his face as he felt his cock recede back into something…else. Despite knowing it’d be back in an hour, it didn’t abate the uneasiness any.  
  
 _What type of freak have I bound myself to?_ Harry thought, his eyes clenched tightly shut as the buzzing in his body subsided slightly, signalling the end of the change. _This is just an indirect way of cheating! Well, you_ wanted _him to be faithful_ , his mind mocked him.  
  
“Trust you to choose the girl most similar in appearance – a dark haired tart with small appendages,” Draco clucked his tongue in disdain, “You don't want me to have any fun, do you?” Draco growled softly, with a smile that promised debauched desires dancing across his lips.   
  
Draco's eyes glistened at the beautiful long dark hair that hung over those small rounded shoulders and framed _Harry’s_ small breasts. Draco looked away quickly, finding himself far too flustered all of a sudden? “You want my cock, don't you, you little bitch?”  
  
“Well, _she_ obviously did,” Harry sneered, quite pleased that polyjuice didn’t affect one’s voice and that Malfoy would have to put up with a flawed fantasy. He still wouldn’t look, wouldn’t open his eyes, even when the blond’s breath danced over his nipples, which hardened, hungry for attention. He winced, fingers knotting into the sheets as Malfoy spread his suddenly shapely legs and slid between them.   
  
“I’m really not in the mood so just hurry up would you – I lost my boner last time because you took so long…” He allowed his voice to trail off innocently, but he knew the insult had already been thrown.   
  
Draco trailed his tongue over those nipples and circled them tentatively, paying them more attention now they were wobbling in his hands. He gripped them firmly, massaing the warm flesh while he bit lightly at the erect nubs. Harry's head shot back with a loud gasp and his body arched uncontrollably. Draco chuckled, sucking harder on those nipples for more reaction.  
  
The dusty-pink peaks swelled with the attention and Draco’s hand slowly trailed down that smooth and curvy body until he found the damp stickiness below that he’d been searching for.  
  
“You say that, but you're already so wet, Harry – soaked even…”  
  
Harry’s eyebrows shot up, knitting together with confused humiliation as Draco’s fingers slid over the slick folds between his legs. “Oh – _Oh, Merlin_ that feels… _odd_!” Harry gasped out, frozen with the strange sensations that swept over his body as a soft fingertip ghosted over his delicate, pink nub sending shivers through him. Until that fiasco where Draco had woken him with those two girls a few weeks ago, he’d never even seen a real girl naked in person – and now he _was_ one!   
  
He felt like that trembling virgin again, only this time it was with a different body, one that was not his own, one that he didn’t understand and he couldn’t resist cracking open his eyes to look down at himself. One of Draco’s hands (the one not between his legs) fingered a few strands of hair before bringing his palm down to the swell of his breast and rubbing slowly.  
  
Harry’s mouth dropped open with silent pleasure and he looked down between the valley of his breasts to see Malfoy’s forefinger coaxing the pulsing, pink pearl from it’s hood. He felt the digit spreading the wetness leaking from his core over it and groaned out loud as it swelled with sensitivity. Malfoy’s gaze tipped up to his face at that, and his lips knotted with a seductive smirk once he saw him looking at what the hand between his legs was doing. Harry flushed, turning his head away again.  
  
Draco's finger slowly rubbed through the creases of the soft wet opening, along the lips smoothly until they reached the clit that he began to flick. He pushed his finger into that sensitive part of flesh and rubbed it around in minuscule circles. Harry's lips parted in sudden shock, with the feeling of tingles bolting through that part of skin and deep inside him. He felt his new opening grow hot and weep thin trails of arousal – all before those wicked silver eyes.  
  
Draco's cock felt hard and must have brushed up against Harry's legs when he slid his fingers through the slick, tender lips of the new opening. The prospects however remained the same, and Harry was closing his legs on Draco's hand, searching for more…more touch.  
  
“Y-You – you really do miss girls don’t you?” Harry tried to taunt him through gasping pants from the liquid heat boiling in his core. A gratifyingly rough thumb slid down to resume the torturous rubbing of his swollen bud while that devious finger slid between his dripping folds to tease at the tight, clenching opening. “Hmm! Nhh! Oh – Oh God!” Harry panted, throwing his head back so that his throat arched.   
  
Somewhere along the line, he had completely forgotten that what was happening to him was an insult. The knowledge that it was amazing had completely overcome the forefront of his mind. Then, that finger slid in, wiggled inside of him and he arched shamefully, his hands flying down to seize Draco’s wrist.   
  
“Stop!” he gasped out. That definitely felt weird, and his stomach was still churning, there was a heat pooling _there_ and a constant shudder was curving his spine. “I – I mean it! Malfoy! STOP!”  
  
Malfoy smiled ignorantly at Harry's request, but pulled his finger out and darted his tongue deep into Harry's belly button. He felt Harry’s shaky stomach twitch. And the pleads for him to stop subsided slightly when the blond dragged his tongue slowly down towards Harry's lower area, tracing the flesh with wet kisses as he reached his destination.  
  
“Hmm, even smells good…” Draco hummed, breathing hotly over the wet, steamy flesh below. He dived his tongue in suddenly, sweeping over the curves and as deep into the opening as he could manage. His nose catching the nub above slightly and he dragged his mouth upwards, licking furiosly over that swollen clit. Pressing his muscle into the pink, pulsing bud, he allowed his own saliva to dribble over the needy flesh, rubbing it in with swooping circles of his tongue.  
  
“N-No!” Harry growled out from behind clenched teeth, shoving hard at Malfoy’s shoulders – uselessly. His hips circled slowly with that gyrating tongue and a high gasp slithered through his tense lips, punctuated by a soft, feather-light graze of those teeth, until the delicate bud was caught between them softly.  
  
“Stop! I’m not a girl – I – I’m not your _wife_! I’m – I’m a man! Stop it!”   
  
It was as if the better it felt, the guiltier he felt for submitting to it. What would his friends say if they saw him? He shook his head, in denial of everything as those lips pulled torturously at the sensitive clit. He shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t be _letting_ him do this, despite how much Malfoy needed it. How could he look himself in the mirror holding a revolting secret like this? It was a heavy enough burden to be fucked by Draco Malfoy like a girl – now he was being fucked by Draco Malfoy _as_ a girl?!  
  
“This is wrong! Stop it! I’m not – I’m not supposed...!”  
  
“It's not wrong,” Draco growled with frustration, delving deeper into those soft lips below, tasting and manipulating every part, every bump and curve, licked as deep and desperately as he could. With a maddening passion burning in his veins, he couldn’t fathom how Harry had room in his head for such silly excuses.  
  
“How can you say it's wrong? I bet you've never felt _anything_ that feels so _right_ ,” He hissed. “Besides, no one is here, no one will know, what difference does it make…?”  
  
Harry couldn’t help it, he cried out loud when that tongue delved back inside him, lapping up his juices and the hands that had been shoving fruitlessly at those shoulders flew up to seize those tousled, golden locks. He arched up into him. He felt Malfoy smirk smugly against him but didn’t care. For once – _just this once_ , Harry thought, the arsehole was right.  
  
That devilish mouth slid up and caught his throbbing clit again and his body twisted under the spasms that shot through him, two fingers sliding into his moist, impossibly hot passage. “Y-You – do that, more!” He managed out, whether it was right or not, damn the consequences! If he wanted it and Malfoy wanted it, what was the point in saying no? Just because he _thought_ he should? He was the only one getting hurt and he just didn’t care at that moment…  
  
Deeper and deeper Draco delved into that moist slit, trailing his tongue up and down, then occasionally inwards to gather the gleaming pearls of feminine arousal. The slickness splashed over his nose when he dragged his tongue back over the folds and pressed into that swollen clit. Harry arched up again, hot and heavy when the blond tenderly brushed his fingers over his hips and caused his entire body to writhe in pleasure, shuddering and shivering at the feel.  
  
“You like that?” Draco purred, knowing full well the answer, but asking anyway, just to hear the humiliation, the passion and surrender in Harry’s voice. “It doesn’t feel wrong…does it?”  
  
Harry growled in frustration at having to answer, turning his head into the pillow so he didn’t have to look at him as he answered. “Yes!” His tongue darted over his lips, feeling Draco’s gaze weighing heavily on the movement of his mouth, especially when it opened further with a groan. “It feels bloody amazing!” He spread his legs wider, beckoning Draco in deeper. He couldn’t help himself, he looked down again at that forbidden sight. It wasn’t as hot as watching that mouth around his cock, or that throat convulse around the bulk of it, but it was still delicious and he swore his slit was melting under the heat.  
  
“Hmm…M-More…!”  
  
The slytherin pulled back for a moment, “More of what? This?” He teased, then dived back in torment his clit with the very tip of his tongue, “Or this?” he asked, dragging his wet muscle down to lather the wanton orifice below.  
  
Harry swung his head from side-to-side in utter confusion. He didn’t know what he wanted, it all felt too good and Draco knew that too.   
  
“Well…?” Draco demanded, waiting for Harry to answer him, allowing his breath to dust the tender, hungry parts of Harry he had been paying so much attention to. The parts he knew wanted him so badly.  
  
“I – I don’t…” He panted wildly, his legs shaking as he pressed his heels hard into the sheets in release, grinding his engorged clit up into that mouth. “Oh – that!” He moaned, an unbearable heat brewing, his stomach ache forgotten as he felt his lower body go tight and limp all at once. He tried to form words but all he could manage was a deep whine before something inside him exploded and he felt liquid gush down his slick walls, escaping through Draco’s fingers and dousing that waiting tongue.  
  
He frowned, staring down at Draco’s face (or what he could see of it) those eyes closed for a long while, until at last that mouth retreated, but those fingers still curled inside of him and Harry let out a breath he couldn’t remember holding. “Did I…what did I just…?” He stumbled over his confusion. He _thought_ he knew what had happened but being a _man_ the rest of the time he wasn’t sure.  
  
“Come on, tell me, what do you want me to do to your _‘cunt’_?” Draco whispered huskily, his eyes fixated on the white creamy substance still oozing from between those pink lips. “You like it when I eat you, hm?” Draco snarled, watching closely as those nether-regions twitched whenever dirty words tumbled over his lips.   
  
“Maybe this little slut needs a good pounding?” The blond licked up the cum that had just escaped and rewarded the tight hole with a finger. Slowly sliding it in, he prised him apart slightly, the sticky wetness only growing hotter as his finger reached further inside.   
  
Not a second thought crossed Draco’s mind as he swept up all of Harry’s girly juices. Even if he tried to deny it, Draco could see how badly Harry wanted him, no, needed him. And who was Draco to deny him something, which he himself so badly wanted to give?  
  
The white-hot pleasure was still rippling over his skin, and Draco’s fingers curled up into that same blissful place and Harry’s fingers knotted tightly in Draco’s hair, dragging him up his body forcefully. With glassy green eyes he considered that face briefly before tugging that mouth down to his demanding lips. An undeniable quiver shot through the blond’s limbs as that pulsing thickness slid up over Harry’s oozing core.  
  
“Fuck me!” Harry growled out, his voice husky and deep with desire as he lathed Draco’s tongue with his own. “M-Make me cum again! Before the potion…wears off!”  
  
Draco smiled against those lips, triumphantly. _After Harry Potter gets going, he has no restraint_. Draco thought, proud of the fact that he could always make Harry melt, no matter how against it he was when he started off. “Want me to fuck you with my cock, do you?” He hissed over those lips and Harry flushed darker. “Want me to ram my cock in your _cunt_?” He asked again, his finger strumming that swollen clit.   
  
Turning his head aside to escape that hungry gaze, Harry didn’t protest when those lips ravaged his ear and his throat, and his hips danced up against Draco’s hand. “God t-this is so peculiar!” He wheezed, reaching between them to slid his thumb over the weeping slit of Draco’s erection. It throbbed in his hand and he pulled it down to his body, clumsily missing the hole each time he tried. Scowling in frustrated need, he turned and pushed his throat up into that savage mouth.  
  
“Fuck me – _there_ – I – I want to know…what it feels like!” They’d got this far, and he needed to feel the rest of it…   
  
Draco giggled slyly into those lips and brought his hand down to his hanging cock. Holding it in his fingers he rubbed it along that drenched opening, dragging it up and along the swelling clit, wetness soaking the tip of his penis when he dragged it down towards the waiting orifice. “Hope you're ready for this…?” Draco panted, knowing this new feeling would be unlike anything Harry had ever experienced. _Something blissful._  
  
He pushed the pulsing organ slowly into the wetness of the slit and Harry gasped, feeling his hole opening with every slight movement, yielding pliantly and without any real preparation unlike his own body. Draco grinned at the confused passion that took his husband’s features. “You like this?” He growled softly.  
  
Harry stared starry-eyed at him, his conscious thought glazing over with pleasure. His numb toes gripped the bed spread and he edged back onto Draco’s invasion, testing the slick, hot feeling. “That’s – your – oh!” That was so different and overwhelming. He felt his cum slick the way, inviting the pulsing hardness in deeper. Reaching down, he seized Draco’s hips and urged him inwards, wanting that stretching, full feeling…  
  
Above him, Draco smirked menacingly, gloating over Harry’s body and pushing in all the way, his balls flush against his arse. With a low, vibrating groan of bliss at the sensations overwhelming his skin, Harry wriggled, gryrating his hips in slow circles into him. “N-No – you stopped – you stopped rubbing _that_ – me!” He whimpered, unable to use the real word for it.   
  
Draco's hips hit hard against Harry's thighs as he ground deep inside, his full cock throbbing inside the tight walls of Harry's wet, melting slit. “My cock is tensing inside you,” Draco stated huskily, making Harry’s body wriggle with pleasure. “Want me to rub your clit too? Well say it. Say you want me to rub your clit while I'm moving inside of you.”  
  
Harry quivered, his walls undulating deliciously, around that swelling prick. “Oh…r-rub – rub it!” But a low, mocking chuckle and a few, shallow thrusts inside his convulsing hole were all he received in answer. “My _clit_! Rub it – fuck me, hurry!” Suddenly those hands seized his hips roughly, spinning him round and throwing him carelessly onto his front. He was yanked up onto his knees unceremoniously then, just before Draco ploughed into him.  
  
With a low, resonating groan of pleasure that melted like butter in his mouth, Harry’s chest tipped forward onto the sheets shakily, the thrusts assaulting his dribbling hole were hitting in just the right place now, and those fingers (just rough enough) brought a mouth-watering friction over the hard, swollen bud it had returned to.  
  
Draco sneered with a lustful gleam in his eyes at the glistening chute that clenched tightly and hungrily around his dick, wanting more when he plunged forwards into it. Never satisfied, never sated. “What does Harry want me to do to his clit, hm?” Draco teased. “Tell me again?” The deep, rumbling purr of Draco's teasing caused Harry to shudder in his grip. Knees and hands were shaky and he felt tender under the blond's touch. Something inside him was knotting and squeezing on the end of Draco's cock, and he could feel something hot and maddening rise in his core again.  
  
“You like that, hm? You little bitch!” Draco snarled, gripping Harry's buttocks and slapping them roughly as he moved faster and harder into that delicious, silken heat.  
  
“R-Rub it!” Harry panted, delirious with bliss, “Stroke it – like that!” He quivered as those fingers thrummed his pulsing bud. He was sure he was going to cum again…  
  
Harry released a keening noise from his throat and his muscles hurtled into manic spasms of bodily bliss. He quivered and moaned and he swore he was dying, losing himself to a near-painful seizure of ecstasy. “I – I’m going to – Oh…!”  
  
Draco rubbed in vigorous circles over thatr engorged, wet clit. It felt so hot and hard against his fingertip as he pressed it in and strummed it hungrilly, the sloshing sounds of his dick hitting deep inside every time sending shivers through his spine and he arched forward, needing to feel more, to feel closer, to feel _everything.  
_   
“Cum for me, _come on_ , you little whore,” Draco teased, biting down on his tongue to delay his own climax when he felt his dick pulse heavily inside, the helm of his shaft practically _buzzing_ with need. And as if Draco didn’t _already_ know exactly what he was hitting with every thrust, he heard Harry groan louder from below him and his eyes widened with lust when he whispered huskily in his ear…  
  
“Say it, say my name when you c-cum?”  
  
Harry shuddered at the sound of that shuddering in his ears. And his brow furrowed. Could he really do that? He was pondering it lucidly from amidst the manic haze of pleasure when he felt the knot in his belly give and his climax rushed over him like a crescendo of water from a clifftop. “D-Draco!” He gasped out, without really thinking about it, without seeing Draco’s gleaming lustful smirk.  
  
Harry’s eyes fell shut as he allowed the bliss to wash over him, Draco still slamming inside his twitching heat, cum drizzling down his shaking things. And amidst it all his skin was tingling, but not in post-climax – the potion was going to wear off soon!  
  
“I'm cumm–ing!” Draco gasped, the tight walls sloshing deliciously, wetly around his cock as he moved faster and faster inside. “Agghhh!” Draco yelped, his hips jerking forward dramatically and his member bursting at the helm with white, sticky lust, spilling deep in Harry’s body.  
  
Draco collapsed hazily onto Harry's female body, bathed in sweat and heaving with gasps for air. Trying to catch his breath, he leant in and kissed Harry leisurely, tiredly as they lay there for just a few moments.  
  
Slowly, with Draco’s hot, sweat-slicked body spooning him, Harry slumped into the sheets, Draco’s erection sliding out of him wetly just as his skin bubbled like an over-brewed cauldron.He felt his face change, his hair shorten to tickle the back of his neck as Malfoy breathed on him, felt his ‘breasts’ disappear and his lower body revert back to it’s normal condition. Exhaling shakily, Harry reached down distantly to touch himself, feeling his limp penis between his stomach and the soiled sheets before relaxing into the bed, his mind drifting.  
  
That afterglow was still throbbing through his veins, he could feel the pleasant heat in his cheeks as he lay there, beneath Malfoy’s hot, panting body. _I should feel guilty, disgusted with myself – I should feel wretched after that. I should loathe him… I should hate him, I’m meant to – I try to, but I can’t…_  
  
“Happy birthday!” Draco said shakily as he caught his breath, although there couldn’t be much off the day left. Their bodies sank deep into the sheets and Draco rolled over to the other side to lay next to his husband, overwhelmed all of a sudden. Odd, unnameable sensations prickled his skin and he turned to face away from Harry and buried his head in the pillow.   
  
“That's what – you get – when you – turn into a little cocky bastard!” Draco panted out, wearing a grin from ear-to-ear and he knew Harry could see that smile. And it didn’t bother him as much as he was _sure_ it should.  
  
Harry turned over and surveyed his exhausted husband for a moment, before casting a brisk cleaning charm over his body (too tired for a bath now) and rolling over onto his side, facing the blond’s sweaty back. The after-effects, the roiling of his stomach seemed to have disappeared during their… _experiment_ , and he relaxed his body into the sheets.  
  
One thing even he could not deny, he certainly slept better than he had ever before at Malfoy Manor, whether that was because he didn’t sleep well alone, or because Malfoy simply tired him out with his constant torment, or if Narcissa Malfoy was simply sympathetically drugging him, he was not sure.  
  
“Yeah,” he replied quietly, turning his face into the pillow as his eyes fluttered. It had certainly been a day with as many ups and downs as could be scheduled in! “Some day,” he panted. What was _happening_ to him?! What was he turning into?! One thing was for sure, he wasn’t going back to being Malfoy’s subservient pet after today…  
  
His lips tipped up into a smirk at the scheme already brewing in his head. Ron _had_ invited him out with him and a few of their old school friends in a few weeks, maybe he would just have to accept. Unfortunately for him, Malfoy turned over, just in time to catch his smirk. Those grey eyes narrowed in suspicion.  
  
The small smile on Malfoy’s face broadened when he caught Harry’s expression. “I know I'm amazing at what I do, but no need to grin at me like an idiot,” He said arrogantly, turning his face back into the pillow as he leant over Harry and extinguished the bedside lamp, the only remaining light in the room.   
  
“I _know_ you're still grinning and I can't even see you,” Draco murmured unintelligibly, but never heard the answer as the darkness relaxed them and took them both into a deep sleep.   
  
  
_~To Be Continued..._


	7. Striving for Changes

[Seven]  
 **Striving for Changes**  
  
  
  
It felt as if the room itself was shaking with the intensity of the music. The vast space was filled with sweaty, incapacitated bodies, grinding into each other ardently with the shameful beat. The dimness of the club was rhythmically interrupted with soft flashes of the gentle lighting and Harry flushed as he saw a particular couple pressing into some _very_ personal places as they _danced_. He heard Ron chuckle slightly at his bashfulness and threw a glare at the red-head before taking a deep (unwise) swig of his third drink that night. His head shook slightly form the intensity of the taste, he didn’t really drink that often – in fact, twice (including now) both due to Draco Malfoy’s sudden presence in his life.  
  
“Yep, the only thing muggles do right,” Ron murmured, chugging back another beer. Harry winced, finding the taste and smell of beer abhorrent, and much preferring sweeter alternatives. His cheeks definitely felt hot though, and he wasn’t sure whether he was more drunk than Ron. Seamus and Dean were drinking at the same table but (as the only bachelors) had their eye on the three, semi-naked ladies wrapping themselves around the poles on the stage.  
  
Harry flushed darkly and turned his attention back to his drink, a strange, light-headedness overcoming him. His last sensible thought was that he was glad Ron was more interested in his beer than the women, or else he might have had something to say. _Nope, we’re both married men,_ he thought distantly, rememebering who would be waiting (furiously no doubt once he came home from his late day to find Harry gone without permission) at home for him. He didn’t even protest as Dean shoved a brimming shot glass towards him.   
  
“Slow down, mate,” Ron insisted, voice slurred, “don’t want to have to take you home to your missus drunk and disorderly.” That was distinct sarcasm, but Harry was too tipsy to notice. With his inhibitions fading with his senses, he was even confident enough to raise his eyes to the woman at the forefront of the stage, just as she stripped down to a thin, black thong and slid off of the edge into some man’s lap.  
  
Harry swallowed, he was _vaguely_ aware of what was about to happen but he had never been here before, and were it not for it being Dean’s stag night (and for it being a _spectacular_ opportunity to annoy Malfoy by not being there when he came home late) he might not have bothered coming…  
  
“Like what ya see do ya, mate?” Seamus smirked at him from across the table. Harry flushed – again. They hadn’t made any jokes about his marriage to a man but he had a feeling this was some sort of way of teasing him. He took another sip of his drink, his eyes still trailing over to the girl as she spread her legs wide over the strange man’s hips. She wasn’t touching him, but her thighs ghosted over the man’s legs and Harry could _feel_ Seamus and Dean watching him carefully.  
  
“Surprised to see you so flustered at an act between a women and a man,” Seamus laughed, nudging Dean in the side.   
“Especially considering your _situation_ ,” Dean added. The both of them giggled slyly when Harry turned to look at them with an irritated frown. Dean shrugged. “Well? Taking it up the back end isn’t exactly similar to having a fit bird dancing over your lap.”  
“Where’s the excitement in your bum being stretched open?” Seamus cringed, “Sounds bloody painful. Doesn’t it…you know, _bother you_ that you will never have any of this excitement?”   
  
If only he knew.  
  
Harry looked rather affronted. Whatever it was that he and Draco had, it was certainly not boring. He had never experienced anything else with anyone so how was he to know? Was the reason Draco was always so vicious and cruel to him because he, Harry was that plain and dull? Harry looked extremely upset all of a sudden and Dean backed off, his nice features softening.  
  
“I…I was only joking Harry, just a joke,” he promised and Harry’s tense expression faded a touch, but not completely when he saw the muggle money in Seamus’s hand. Seamus was offering _him_ the money as he said, “Go on, mate, I dare you…ask her for a dance?”  
  
Harry looked across at her once more. Reaching across the table Harry seized Seamus’s vodka shot and downed it (despite the protests) and sent it skidding across the table with an incapacitated smirk. “I’ll have you know, my _husband_ and I have done more things in the month or so we’ve been married than you could even imagine doing in a lifetime,” Harry retorted, his inhibitions faded as if they had never been. His back went up at his friends’ teasing for some reason. His smirk broadened and he got to his feet, finding his footing a tad unsteady.  
  
“You think that I needy a fussy girl who turns her nose up at a blowjob to make my bed exciting? Well then I’ll let you know that we had two women in our bed at the same time a few weeks ago.” They seemed shocked, Harry, in his drunkenness found it amusing. He would probably regret it in the morning, but then, this wasn’t the worst of his plans for the night, getting drunk had been the mere start…  
  
“I barely have the energy to keep up with the excitement, sometimes I can barely walk afterwards.” The last part came out a smug sneer of sorts – oh Merlin, Draco was rubbing off on him! He didn’t consider their _marriage_ a relationship at all, he considered it the chains to which he was tied to his prison, but that was for him alone to dispute, to mock, not anyone else.  
  
“Prove it!” Seamus demanded, testing him. Deep down inside he didn’t think Harry had the nerve. Harry tipped his head back, eyes shining with the alcohol.   
“Watch me,” he said.  
“Oh, fighting talk?” Dean laughed, nudging Seamus again, while Ron looked awkwardly on at the situation and stiffened in his chair. Harry threw off his checked shirt that he’d been wearing over his t-shirt and flung it back at his firends, quickly approaching the stage.  
  
“Oh, Merlin he’s not…” Ron began warily.   
“He is” Dean finished with a smile.  
  
The woman turned to face Harry then, throwing aside the man she already held captive under her gyrating hips and offering the chair he’d been in to Harry. “Aren’t you simply the cutest little thing…?” She purred.  
“Someone just like you said the exact same thing once,” Harry replied off-handedly. Of course, somewhere in the back of his mind (where he was more sober) Harry knew he would regret debasing himself like this. The plan had been to come back late and irritate Draco by not being there when he got home. This was getting out of hand…  
  
Settling into the chair, his green, drunken eyes scanned the body of the girl leaning over him already. He curled his fingers coolly around the arms of the chair and leant back into it as far as it would go. She slid over his lap without touching him, grinning seductively. Oddly, Harry wasn’t that moved, he was paying close attention to her movements rather than her.  
  
“Take care not to touch me at all, in any way,” Harry stated simply, “I have an arrangement that cannot be broken.”  
  
She smiled deliciously and bowed down over his body, her plump cleavage right in his face, but not touching, as he had requested. “Oh, your wife doesn’t have to know, sir,” she cooed, her breath steaming over his ear. Harry looked down, studying the way her hips slid up, ghosting over his crotch. Heat rose to his cheeks, but he smirked through the awkward, guilty pleasure.   
  
“No, but my _husband_ and I have an unbreakable agreement.” He watched confusion fly across her features, just before she turned, grinding her naked arse into his lap – almost.  
  
“Husband?” She smiled slyly. “My, you are a _dark horse_. I assume you’re the bottom after all?” She teased. “Or maybe your husband sent you here to get some tips in topping?” Her back arched as she slowly moved up and down, her hair hanging down to dust over his cheek and she offered him a sweet smile then, looking down at him with hungry eyes. “Or could it just be that you need a woman’s touch?”   
  
“None of the above,” Harry replied easily, not swayed by her cutting attitude. He was far too drunk. Perhaps his complacency was annoying her? His smirk only widened. “I’m the bottom, if that’s what you want to call it, but I’m here for my own means – think of it as extra curricular studies.” He was startling himself how confident he was…  
  
The girl turned on his lap after gliding down his legs and crotch, her breasts hanging before his face. She must be so frustrated that _he_ was setting the boundaries, instead of begging and pawing at her in desire. _And annoyed she can’t touch me, even a little, to try and make me want her,_ he mused, remembering how much his indifference irritated Draco.  
  
He was aroused, he wouldn’t even attempt to deny that, but he wasn’t controlled by it, like he had been before (quite a few times) with Draco. The girl’s smile gleamed in the changing light then as she slid down his lap, her hand hovering over the erection pressing against his jeans. “How’s he doing sweetheart?” she breathed.  
  
“Very well, thank you,” Harry panted, looking across to see Dean and Seamus cheering him on, Ron just looking shame-faced and quiet. It made Harry feel a little – _a lot_ uncomfortable. He wasn’t breaking any promises or their marriage contract, wasn’t cheating but a sober Harry wouldn’t have done so anyway, whether it bothered Draco or not, which he knew it would…  
  
She continued the dance without really looking at him. It was rather irritating to find all the cute blokes were gay. Harry eventually stumbled away from the chair and noticed Ron's face was completlely beetroot, whereas Seamus and Dean were drunkily impressed.  
  
“Wow, Harry, didn't think you had it in you!” Dean slurred, handing him another drink. But before he could take it, Ron jumped up and snatched it from his hand.   
“That's quite enough, anymore and he won't be getting home alive!” Ron spat. Ron was fun, but Hermione had rubbed off on him a little, they thought.  
  
“More for us then,” Seamus said, snatching the glass from Dean and making his unsteady way to the middle of the dance floor. Ron sighed.   
“Come on, Harry, let's get you home…”  
  
* * *  
  
Harry shuddered as he staggered through the fireplace, feeling the magic of the wards (that kept all but the Malfoy family out) hum through his skin uncomfortably. He brushed himself off, before remembering he was a wizard and then turned his wand on his sooty clothes – banishing the grime. It wouldn’t do to be filthy before _it_ even began.  
  
An alcohol induced smirk graced his lips as he ascended the stairs (holding the banister carefully). He had planned to go out and come home late (to annoy Draco). But now he was drunk, drunk enough to inspire the extra courage required to carry out the new plan and then…well… But receiving that lap-dance hadn’t been part of his plan, and though the woman hadn’t touched him, he couldn’t help but feel a little… _dirty.  
  
No doubt you’ll feel worse about it tomorrow,_ he thought dismissively as he reached the first floor.  
  
Suddenly, a shadow flickered out from the hall to the right, nearly colliding with him and Harry jumped, gasping in shock as he stumbled back – the shadow of Lucius Malfoy hovering over him on the landing. Harry’s hand closed tightly over the banister, he closed his lips tightly in an attempt to mask his heavy breathing. The elder Malfoy looked all-too ominous in the dimness.  
  
“Good evening, Mr Malfoy,” Harry offered, once he could trust his voice, already attempting to edge to the left, towards his and Draco’s suite.  
  
"Hmm, been out with the boys have we, Harry?” Lucius asked impassively, surveying Harry with utter distaste. Harry flushed with awkwardness. It felt as if Lucius could read his mind of all his secrets, all his sins of the evening. Suddenly, without a flicker of warning, Lucius leant down, his following words whispering _far too intimately_ over his ear…  
  
“You know, if you didn't want to upset my son by turning up at such an indecent hour and in such a drunken state, you could come back to my study for a while and sober up…?” There was a malevolent slyness to his voice, and something didn't feel right about any of it. Not the offer, not the way his voice twisted the words on his serpentine tongue – none of it.  
  
Harry took a step back and shook his head vehemently. With that Lucius straightened back up. “Pity,”  
  
“Sorry, Mr Malfoy, but he’ll be _upset_ enough at my lateness. Goodnight.” Harry could not help but _back_ away, not able to turn his back on his _Father-in-Law_. There was just something about him, something that flickered in his eyes…he wasn’t trustworthy. After edging around the corner and out of Lucius’ sight, he bolted. Stumbling a few times under the influence of alcohol, he flew against the door, lurching into his and Draco’s suite and slamming the door shut behind him.  
  
A sigh of relief tugged from his lips upon hearing the magical _click_ of the lucks, and he rested his head back against the door as he struggled to calm is breathing. He had never been afraid of the dark, but he imagined that this was how youngsters who _were_ must have felt like – fleeing along the dark hall to the safety of their room…  
  
Except his room wasn’t _safe_ as such…  
  
Draco barely spared him a glance up from the armchair by the fire; his eyes looked briefly to him over the papers he was examining, and then back to his work again. Harry placed a hand over his heart, calming his rapid heartbeat before venturing speech. “Hope you weren’t… _waiting up_ for me,” he breathed, walking forwards slowlyy, pulling his jacket off as he did so and throwing it over the back of the settee. “I know you had a late night at work…”  
  
Draco eyes briefly flickered beyond his papers again, but not enough to notice the excessiveness of the drunken mess standing before him. He yawned and pushed his reading glasses back up along the bridge of his nose. “Not tonight, Harry, I have work to do, please go away,” He said simply.  But Harry didn't move.   
  
Draco picked up his drink and took a swig, one hand still holding up the pieces of parchment as he glanced over them. Lost deep in concentration he reached for a pen, he jotted down a few notes before looking back over at Harry a second time and realised his condition at last.  
  
“You reek of alcohol,” he said, a little alarmed and disgusted all at once.  
  
Harry grinned, stalking forwards at that voice as if it were summoning him in, inviting him onwards. “But we _can’t just do this in the morning_ ,” Harry murmured, mimicking Draco’s words from before. “You’re my husband after all, you have to provide.” He paused, but an inch before where Draco sat, his leg brushing slightly against Draco’s as he stood there. The blond threw him a final, derisive look, before glancing back to his papers again, ignoring him.   
  
Far from put off, the drunken _Chosen One_ merely unzipped his jeans, the sound making Draco sit up a little straighter, but not look at him. Harry didn’t take his eyes off him. Stepping out of his jeans and standing there in only his underwear and shirt, which stuck to him from perspiration, he swatted the paperwork carelessly from Draco’s hands. The blond snarled at him, his lips parting to argue but before he could, Harry slid onto his lap, making sure to grind his crotch into Draco’s as he went, silencing any protests by smashing his mouth against his _husband’s._  
  
Draco growled furiously against those lips as they pressed into his, a sweet taste of spirits rushing into his mouth allowing him to learn of Harry's long night of drinking. He gasped heavily when Harry broke away and stared at the man who's body was as heated on his own. How humiliating. He had made Draco hard without too much effort at all.   
  
“What is this?” Draco asked, placing his reading glasses aside and focussing solely on Harry at last as he humped his crotch shamelessly. He tried to shift out from under those hot legs, keeping his hands on the arms of his chair to minimize the desire to touch, to grab, to _take._ Harry didn't seem to answer. But he was still _moving…_  
  
“This?” Harry panted, placing his hands on top of Draco’s arms, pinning them to the chair as he lifted his hips, his hardening cock ghosting over Draco’s thigh. He groaned, letting his head roll back. The heat coming off his body was _intoxicating._ “This is something I learned tonight, do you like it?” He was only vaguely aware of how… _slutty_ he sounded, but he wouldn’t regret it until morning, that was what the alcohol was for.  
  
That smile tugged at his lips again, he had planned to come home (drunk) and seduce Draco – to play at his own game and come out the victor for once, but this was so much more interesting. He hadn’t planned the lap dance. Sliding right back onto Draco’s knees, Harry released his arms to pull off his shirt, tossing it carelessly to the side. He shifted then, drawing Draco’s gaze down to his underwear, and he _watched_ Draco swallow hard at the sight of the sheer knickers he was wearing, now visible without the shirt covering them.  
  
Immediately, Draco reached towards him, but Harry swatted is hands aside. “You have to pay extra for _touching_ ,” Harry smirked, reaching into Draco’s pocket for his wand and flicking it towards his wrists. “ _Bind_!” He hissed and suddenly, two thick, leather straps show up from the ground, pinning Draco’s arms to the chair.  
  
 _Something he learnt?_ Draco thought, but didn't question any further when that cock skimmed over his with such delicious slickness from the silk undies. He inhaled deeper when his hands were leather bound to the chair, wriggling for freedom. He needed to touch, needed to have control over what was happening. “Bastard, untie me at once!” He snarled at Harry, but Harry's only answer was to grind harder against his cock.   
  
“Ngghhh!” Draco gasped out, throwing his head back against the chair in a mixture of desire and frustration. “This isn't funny, untie me!” He demanded again. Harry didn't seem to hear. This was humiliating, to be forced to surrender the control to Harry. But two could play at that game.  
  
Draco suddenly smirked and relaxed a little. “I leave you alone for one night and you come home to me like a drunken slut? You don't _exactly_ have the perfect body to be giving me… What did you call it, this… _lap dance_ you were trying to perform?” Even through his biting words his body still arched uncontrollably at the slightest movement Harry gave. _This is too hot._  
  
“Really, _Draco_ ,” Harry breathed, allowing the hot, breathy sound of that first name to caress Draco’s ear, an intimate shudder shooting down the blond’s spine in response. “I thought you were _intelligent_? I cannot break the contract, or I will die, and as you can see,” he leant back, giving Draco a nice view of his lean torso and bringing the tip of Draco’s wand to his mouth.  
  
Those eyes glistened with anticipation and Harry let his spittle gather at the tip, so that when he brought the wand down his pale sternum, a long trail of saliva slicked his skin. Draco wet his lips anxiously. “I am very much alive, which means I can’t possibly be a _slut_ , learn your words more carefully, Mr Malfoy,” Harry finished with a smile, tracing the long line of skin down to his bellybutton before bring it back up.   
  
“ _Aguamenti_!” He hissed, holding Draco’s fiery gaze as water erupted from the wand tip and doused his body, washing away the perspiration. He felt those eyes on his _imperfect_ body, watching the droplets chase each other down his hot skin, and his chest quivered with rapid breaths. His cock was hardening against the barrier of his knickers just from being _watched_! And Draco could say what he wanted, but his cock evidently didn’t find anything wrong with his body.  
  
 _Bastard_ , Draco’s mind hissed. Fighting against the restraints once more, he bit down on the side of his lip, hard and his glassy eyes threw a glare up at Harry.   
  
“You’re going to regret this later!” He snarled. “You don't have to sleep around to be considered a slut – you can act like a slut without sticking your cock in everything that moves you little fool, and that's what you're doing right now! Don't question me or my intelligence again, understand?” The slytherin hissed with more fury than he could ever express, getting rather aggravated in his restraints. “What's the point in doing this, if you can't do it right, huh?”  
  
Far from turned off, Harry just smirked down at him. “You know, I could cast a silencing spell over you, but it wouldn’t be half as amusing,” he laughed, dropping Draco’s wand to the floor and placing his hands on the back of the chair, supporting his body as he spun around on his lap, pushing his arse back into Draco’s hardening prick. “Hmmm, now who is lying?” Harry asked, gasping out along with Draco as the shape of his cock slid deliciously along the crack of his arse through the barriers of fabric.  
  
He felt Draco tense under him, felt him arch into his backside as he dragged it over Draco’s hips with slow gyrations, the blond’s hands struggling in their bonds to grab at him. “Tell me what a good job I’m doing, Mr Malfoy and I might let you have a taste?” He said huskily, the arousal and alcohol making his head spin. After this, he really wouldn’t be drinking again…  
  
"”I see how it is, need a drink inside you to make a move, right? You're pathetic and you think this little attempt at a lap-dance is going to satisfy me?” Draco laughed bitterly. “Don't make me choke on my own saliva. I may be hard, but then I would be for any piece of arse rubbing up against me. It doesn’t give you _any_ reason to be cocky…”  
  
Draco felt his body shudder at the intensifying thrusts of Harry’s hips and struggled not to betray his fraying control. “Stop mocking me, you prick! You would never have the guts to act so bold normally, now get off already and stop messing around – you're drunk!” Draco hissed, more forcefully this time.  
  
Harry whirled in Draco’s lap, seizing Draco’s wand and directing it at him. “ _Divesto_!” He murmured and with a flash, Draco’s clothes flew to the floor. “Well…so what if I am drunk, for the first time in my life?” Harry purred, leaning in to slide his clothed erection over Draco’s, the bead of moisture weeping from the head staining his underwear. “You seem plenty happy to me – and calling me a prick wasn’t exactly the praise I wanted, you don’t get anything for free in the stripper business, Mr Malfoy,” he laughed, leaning up to slide his wet torso, up along the length of Draco’s body. The skin felt cool compared to his, and he groaned into the shell of Draco’s ear.  
  
“I suppose I’ll just have to grind my dirty cock into you until I cum, and then leave you here, tied up, until you’re ready to admit that you want me? And that you have done, since we were eleven years old?”  
  
“W-What?!” Draco asked in absolute confusion. “How? W-What gave you that idea? I hated you when we were kids and part of me still does hate you!” He argued, trying to keep his eyes from meeting Harry's, from betraying the lie as his teeth scraped together.   
  
“I don't _want_ you… You're _just_ a convenience, it's _you_ that wants me?!” Draco looked down at his erect cock and growled. He felt so humiliated and wanted to use every ounce of strength in his arms to punch Harry. But he was bound, and he couldn’t. He couldn’t do what he wanted and that made him even more annoyed.   
  
“Get off me now you fucking bastard!” He yelled. But again Harry didn't move and he sighed. He was running low on energy as it was and he really didn't feel up to fighting – those papers had to be done by tomorrow and he felt shattered. He looked down, diverting his gaze from Harry miserably and slumped. “Please, untie me?”  
  
Harry sat back, surprised at those last three words, and stunned to stillness for a moment. But then he frowned, his tongue darting out to wet his lips for a moment, before he leant forwards. He reached up with his fingers, brushing blond tendrils back of Draco’s forehead, his mouth hovering over Draco’s. “I want you,” he murmured, words whispering over those lips, “I’m not the one whose afraid to admit it. It doesn’t change anything, it doesn’t change that you hate me, or that this is my prison. Nobody else has to know, like you said.” And with that, he sealed their lips together, swallowing Draco’s protests as he shifted his hips seductively over Draco’s.  
  
He felt Draco stiffen, but felt his mouth part as well, and so his tongue slinked in, tasting that mouth while wordlessly calling his wand to his hand and releasing Draco from his bindings.  
  
Draco felt his hands break free, but chose to sink into that kiss for a moment longer. His tongue arched into Harry's and circled around in that blissful hotness, tasting everything he had to offer. What was happening to him, why was he…?  
  
He quickly broke free from the kiss and threw Harry backwards. Bringing the back of his left hand up to his saliva-slicked lips he wiped away the taste and hissed, “Get off me!” Harry held onto the chair quickly and avoided stumbling, just, while Draco reached for his wand, but found his hand being swatted away. Harry looked at him with stern eyes, as though he wanted answers.   
  
“I don't _want_ you, alright?!” He tried to sound indifferent, but he just sounded awkward. “I…just…” His eyes stared into Harry's then, and he knew that Harry knew. He had always wanted him, and he hated it. And what was worse, now Harry _knew._  
  
“Just get off,” Draco said, his demand more of a request now, trying to avoid giving Harry another shove. But the _drunken one_ remained astride his lap with his needy cock pressed to his leg and Draco shivered. He felt that cock rub against him once again with such little friction, but that was enough to keep him hard.  
  
“I…I _don't_ want you,” He said again, more to himself this time rather than Harry, but there was no convincing anyone with his own member throbbing with such furious need.  
  
Harry stared at him indifferently, dragging his legs fluidly in so that he could slide down Draco’s body, licking up the wet trail his own damp skin created and capturing a dusty nipple between his lips. “It’s alright, you can lie to me, if that is what you need,” Harry murmured, ever the martyr, biting gently into that nub before grinding back up into Draco’s hard cock. This wasn’t going the way he had anticipated. Draco was supposed to be furious and writhing under him, not being distressed…  
  
 _By all rights, I shouldn’t care,_ he thought, pushing Draco’s head to the side with his nose before lathing that throat with his tongue. _He raped me, he tortured me. I should hate him, but I can’t…_  
  
“You need me here,” Harry breathed, sucking at the flesh where Draco’s pulsed raced beneath. “Because to have someone here, suffering with you, makes you feel sane.”   
  
Draco gasped, pulling Harry in by his hips suddenly with a burst of raw, unquenchable need. He didn't think about what he was doing when he grabbed him, his hands shaking slightly. He couldn't help but _touch_ him. “Shut up,” He growled huskily, allowing Harry at last to nuzzle into his neck and litter it with kisses. His persona changed so suddenly, melting under the touch and he felt a little more relaxed…a little nostalgic.   
  
“I hate that you can see inside my head,” He whispered, realising he’d not meant to say that aloud when he felt Harry freeze. “I just… _hate_ it,” He admitted, though Harry wasn't entirely sure what he meant. He had been avoiding the childish feelings that had originated from all those years ago when they had first met, but now how could he? When Harry had so blatantly stated them and shoved them in his face – he couldn't even bear to look Harry in the eye knowing he knew.  
  
 _What a headache.  
  
He always has to be one better, always has to be the one on top, since we were younger, and he can't help but push me. I have wanted him, have wanted _ this _for so long…_  
  
That was right, he had wanted him, and for so long, too long, so why push away when he finally had him? He felt ridiculous for a moment, then smiled. “I thought you were giving me a lap-dance? Or was that the end of your pathetic attempt?” Draco asked with a toothless snarl.  
  
Harry stared at him a moment, stunned, before offering a small, confident smile. “Didn’t you like it?” Harry asked, huskily, rolling his hips so his cock pressed hungrily into Draco’s. Yes, that felt good! He reached up, tugging at one of his pierced nipples lightly so that his head lolled to one side in pleasure. It was definitely good he had drunk so much, at least now the shame wouldn’t hit him until morning.   
  
He swayed his hips slightly, dragging his cock up and down so that he was humping Draco’s thigh. Tipping his chest forwards, he brushed one of his hard nipples over Draco’s mouth, gasping out loud when he felt the bar catch deliciously on the blond’s upper lip. “Hmm… I hope you value my performance, _Sir_ , I learnt it just for you,” Harry teased.  
  
“It's not that I didn't like it, you just didn't do it for very long, did you?” Draco panted, pulling that body closer to catch the nipple piercing and tug at with his teeth. “Show me a real lap dance,” he growled seductively. Why was Harry so hot! He couldn't restrain his fingers as they reached up and knotted in his messy dark hair…  
  
With the other hand, he pulled a muggle five pound note from his wallet that sat on the sidetable and threw it at Harry's chest. “As a paying customer, I expect to get top rate services?” He teased, ignoring what his conscience had to say. It didn't matter about if it was right or wrong. They each wanted something from the other, why deny it?  
  
“Hmm… A whole fiver, Mr Malfoy? We value your patronage,” he murmured, setting his feet on the ground either side of Draco’s legs. Bending his body forwards, nearly in half, he let his mouth skim Draco’s, smiling as he turned slightly, as if chasing the kiss he had missed. Harry continued down, his mouth hovering over Malfoy’s body, teasing but never once touching. He felt Draco try to arch up into his mouth and beamed, panting especially heavy over the dribbling erection jumping up for his mouth. Glancing up he saw those usually hard eyes shining with pleasure and Harry took pity, circling the head with his tongue, gathering the pre-emission into his mouth, before drawing back.  
  
“Nothing says _I want you_ like fivers in the waistband,” Harry said, steadying himself on the arms of the chair as he lowered himself down, grinding his aching prick into Draco’s leg, the sheer fabric of the knickers sliding against him deliciously as he brought himself up to Draco’s knee, only to slide back down once more. _Oh Merlin,_ he thought, _I’m rubbing myself over Draco’s body like a bitch in heat! I thought alcohol was supposed to reduce your sex drive!_  
  
“You have to prove you're worth more than a mere fiver,” Draco hummed, his body tingling in pure pleasure over Harry’s inexpert but enthusiastic seduction. It was thrilling. He could feel the foreskin of Harry's erection edge backwards with friction when it caught his leg and he pressed up into it, wanting to feel more.  
  
“That’s right you dirty whore, rub your little cock all over me,” Draco grinned.  
  
Harry groaned at those words, disgusted at how those insults made his cock ache and dribble inside his knickers. The friction was just so perfect and Malfoy was watching him so hungrily. “D-Don’t say that,” he hissed out, feeling the need to say it, even if his voice didn’t sound like he meant it. He _heard_ Draco smirk at the neediness of his words and he gripped the chair tighter, bringing himself up over Draco’s knee to slide along that hot thigh – but his body was hotter, it felt like he was _steaming!_  
  
Slithering along Draco’s thigh, their cocks met again, the sheer fabric a flimsy, soaked barrier and Harry’s hands flew to Draco’s shoulders this time, “W-What…what do you want me to do, _Sir_?” He half-groaned, losing his grip on conscious thought.  
  
“You were giving me a dance, weren’t you?” Draco teased, realising Harry was all-but lost in the lustful haze and forgetting what exactly a lap-dance entailed. Such innocence.“Grind that cock into me,”  Draco demanded heatedly, his steamy breaths penetrating the depths of Harry's ear. “Ride me like the whore you are!”  
  
“D-Don’t!” Harry panted, obeying in any case. His hips circled sensuously, every now and then pausing to relieve his arousal and press his needy cock into Draco. He felt Draco’s hands lift up to cup his bum cheeks and his head tipped back, mouth open in a silent groan as his movements became less of a dance and more of a desperate gyration over Malfoy’s crotch.   
  
Suddenly, Malfoy’s mouth seized his throat, sucking his pulse harshly as he kneaded his arse and Harry’s body shook with spasms in his grasp. “Oh, I – _stop_! I’m going to–” But he was cut off as one of Draco’s hands left his backside, three of his fingers pressing into Harry’s open mouth and gathering the saliva there. Harry groaned into those fingers, brushing his tongue against the slightly rough pads of the digits and heard Draco gasp in response.  
  
Fidgeting in anticipation, Harry turned his head more so that Draco could get to more of his throat. He knew where those fingers were going next and he cursed himself for wanting it so badly.  
  
“Suck them,” Draco purred, seducing Harry’s mouth with slow, tantalising brushes of his fingers over that hot, eager tongue. “Go on my little slut, lick my fingers as if you were licking my cock,” he continued, massaging that slick muscle. “Hmm, out of five quid, you’re about half way there.”  
  
Harry groaned in whole-hearted agreement, sucking those fingers hungrily into his throat, saliva trickling down his chin and gasping out in negation when those fingers were torn away. He shuddered at Draco’s words, tipping his head forward to meet the blond’s intense gaze as his knickers were pulled to one side and those soaked fingers lingered between the smooth valley of those cheeks, sliding agonisingly slow towards that twitching entrance.  
  
“Why so tense, _Malfoy_ , your slutty body wants it?”  
  
The appendages circled his hole and Harry wriggled, perking his arse eagerly for Draco’s digits, and relaxing in his impatience to be filled.  
  
Draco’s free arm looped his neck, yanking his mouth down harsh to those lips. Harry, startled by the sudden roughness of the lusty kiss, felt Draco smile against him, in just as that first finger plunged into Harry’s tightness. “Hmn!” Harry murmured against the kiss, opening his mouth, eyes fluttering closed as that tongue danced over his. Was sex always this intense? Or was it more so…because Malfoy wanted him and hated him in the same moment? The desire and loathing set Draco’s touch on fire, it seemed, and Harry clenched his muscles hungrily around the second finger that slid inside, spreading him open.  
  
Harry pushed back on those fingers, taking them eagerly as Draco broke the kiss to trail heated kisses down his throat until Harry’s head fell back and his lips parted in a lustful gasp. A string of saliva connected their lips still until Draco took a rosy nipple into his mouth, the burning desire evident in his eyes. Why did he want him so badly?   
  
“Does my little slut like being stretched apart?”  
  
“Yes,” Harry panted honestly, “But I’m not a slut.” A cry tore free from his mouth then as all three fingers shoved into his entrance, stretching the clenching muscles roughly. He couldn’t stop from pressing his neglected cock into Draco’s body, impatient for the higher plain of pleasure. It didn’t feel dirty, or nauseating to give in, anymore, partially because he had come to grips with it, partially because it was done on his own terms, whether Draco realised or not.  
  
“Hurry up,” Harry whispered, reaching down to rub Draco’s hardness. “Come on Mr Malfoy, _impress_ me,” he dared him.  
  
“But you are a slut and you’re _mine_ ,” Draco hissed, spreading his fingers inside that tight chute. “Do you want my cock?” Draco asked, daring Harry to answer. “Tell me how much you want my throbbing cock inside your prim little hole, Harry Malfoy?” His very soul seemed to gleam when he said Harry's name like that, seeing the man over his lap startled at the sound of it. But no matter, he’d son be distracted from _that_ shock. Draco couldn’t take it anymore. He brought his hand down over his own throbbing member and pressed the tip against Harry's twitching entrance.  
  
Harry’s head fell back and he moaned out shamelessly. “I want it,” was all he managed out before the throbbing, purple head popped through his tight ring. He gasped, as Draco thrust in, filling him instantly. A dazed look tugged at Harry’s features and he steadied himself on the blond’s shoulders, rolling his hips slowly while his body adjusted. It didn’t take very long nowadays. He wondered if that should be something to be proud or ashamed of?  
  
“Hmm,” he hummed, tipping his head forwards again to rest on Draco’s shoulder, every breath rushing hotly over the shell of his ear. “Don’t disappoint me, Mr Malfoy, not after I worked so hard…” Maybe Draco was right, that certainly sounded like something a slut would say, tomorrow morning he would blanch at the memory of his voice, he was sure.  
  
“You need to work a little harder if you want to impress _me,_ whore…” Draco licked at Harry's ear then, feeling the purpling tip of his throbbing organ swell and stretch that delicious heat. Draco jerked upwards and grasped Harry's rolling hips hastily, guiding him up and along his hard, oozing prick and back down again with a thump. “You like my cock inside you, hmm? My hard, blistering prick buried deep in your slutty hole?”  
  
“Stop – calling me – a slut!” Harry gasped out between the hard jerks into his body, despite the way his cheeks coloured with every insult. _Such a bloody masochist,_ he thought, not for the first time, with his back arching at the searing pleasure. He reached down, rubbing himself frantically through his panties. “Oh, _Merlin_ , I love it! So – so good! Harder!”   
  
His teeth sank into his lip and he delved into his lingerie, fisting his cock impatiently. He was too far gone to hold back, but he had a feeling Draco wouldn’t let him off so easy. “More!” Harry demanded, shuddering at the combined feeling of that throbbing member punching his pleasure spot and his finger skirting the leaking tip of his own erection.  
  
“The little slut loves it, does he?” Draco teased, his insides twisting Harry's pleasurable words. He snarled with pleasure, watching that body wriggle madly in his lap. “Look, he’s even touching himself…” Draco chuckled with feigned disgust, insulting him all the more for the knowing that he hated it so much. Or claimed to.  
  
“Mr Harry Malfoy loves to ride a big cock, doesn't he?” Suddenly, Draco pulled his hands back behind his head and watched smugly as Harry moved along his swelling shaft with ease. His arse was swallowing him greedily, melting around that huge organ with each and every moment. And Harry's slutty tongue couldn't help but dart out to wet his dry lips with the need for more.   
  
Harry shook his head, more determinedly this time, for a moment forgetting his speech as his body liquefied, his insides hot and slippery and making his mouth water. But then Malfoy’s words cut through him again and through the haze of arousal his back went up. Releasing Malfoy’s shoulder, he froze in his frantic humping, raising his hand and slamming it brutally across the blond’s pale cheek. He watched Draco flinch from pain, and shock, but as he turned, mouth open (to spit some vile comment no doubt) Harry pressed his own mouth to him, taking his mouth ferociously and groaning slightly into him despite his fury.  
  
“Don’t – call me – a slut,” Harry sneered against those lips, “The only reason I want your vile prick so bad is because you’ve fucked me up so much!”  
  
Draco smiled intensely despite the aftershock of being hit, his mouth widening into a gloating grin. He always knew how to get under Harry’s skin. “You really are a slapper, get used to something so much, that you just _need it_? If you really hated my vile cock so much, you wouldn’t come back for more – or have you forgotten? I was just working before you wandered in and started grinding into my lap!” Draco spat at him, the saliva crashing against Harry’s lips.  
  
Harry glared down at him for a moment, wiping his mouth in disgust. “If I’m such a bloody slapper then what are you, _Malfoy_? You’ve fucked half of England and more whereas I’ve only ever slept with you!” Harry sneered, shaking his head slightly. This wasn’t what he had in mind. At that final insult he brought his hand up again, only to have Draco’s hand seize his wrist, preventing him from hitting him again.  
  
“If I’m such a whore then I’ll do you a favour and remove myself from your person,” Harry snapped, yanking his hand from Malfoy’s grasp and sliding up off his lap (despite his body’s protest) a humiliating wet noise sounding as he did so. Pulling the lingerie off his body, Harry turned and headed for the bathroom door. But no sooner than he reached out to push it open, he was shoved spitefully against it, his glasses askew as his face was plastered into the flat of the door. He winced, struggling as he felt Malfoy’s breath at the nape of his neck. “Get the bloody hell off me!” Harry spat.   
  
Draco stumbled forward with a crash into Harry's body, just able to catch him in that quick stride and he pinned him there securely. Smiling perversely into his neck, he noticed Harry shudders and he pressed his shoulders into the wooden frame of the door as he kicked his legs open. The still slick skin from his crack stretched open easily, wanting him back inside despite Harry’s anger.  
  
Shoving those cheeks apart, Draco leant forwards and shoved his cock deep into that raw arse. “Don't start what you can't finish. You want to act like a whore, I'll fuck you like a whore!” Draco growled, holding Harry's fighting body forcibly against the door, his hand flying up to press his head against it. Harry was strong, but not strong enough to move beyond Draco's grip without magic.   
  
“It hurts, you wanker! Get off!” Harry hissed. His slick, stretched hole swallowed Draco eagerly, but the rest of his body protested furiously against being pressed spitefully into the door. He’d planned to seduce Draco to get some control back, how horribly wrong _that_ had gone…  
  
 _Well I won’t cry and whine the way he wants me to,_ Harry thought, wincing as Draco’s other hand bunched viciously in his hair, yanking his head back so that Harry’s throat was so arched he could barely swallow. _He hasn’t_ broken _me,_ was his last conscious insistence, before that mouth sucked hard at the juncture of his shoulder. “You’re the only _whore!_ ” Harry snarled, shoving his elbow roughly back into Draco’s ribs. The boy hissed, but didn’t move off.  
  
One thing Draco couldn't do was handle his emotions, he wouldn't admit he wanted or needed harry. And in turn, ended up just hurting him further. He knew no boundaries, couldn’t think of them when burning with emotion and that applied to everything, including this.   
  
“You prick!” Draco snarled, swinging Harry's body roughly into the bathroom. As the door crashed open, Harry stumbled and fell forward, face first into the toilet seat. It was only a small consolation that the lid was down. A warning hiss from behind him was his only warning as Draco slammed Harry's head roughly into the the hard, plastic seat and held him there, his cheek squished into the hard surface. But Draco just smiled to the sound of his pain.   
  
“Just bloody – take it–!” Draco panted as his cock arched deeper and deeper inside, with more fury and need than before as if doing this made him right, supreme in everything. “Don't interrupt me while I'm working, act like a whore and expect me to play nice! Now, tell me what a slut you are.”  
  
 _And this is the relationship Harry had defended earlier in the night?_  
  
“Where in the bloody contract does it say only _you_ get to decide when we fuck?” Harry snarled, fighting for freedom and only succeeding in slamming hard into the marble floor. He cried out in pain then as the collision set his teeth into his lip, the coppery taste of blood filling his mouth.  
  
“I’M NOT A SLUT!” Harry insisted, his cheek pressed into the cold floor as Malfoy seized his hips, pulling them up and spreading his cheeks wider for his entry, each violent lurch into his slick body crushing him further into the floor. His arse felt like it was on fire, clenching hungrily around the thick cock piercing him, it felt good but Draco was being too spiteful to render him into the useless pool of arousal he had been before. This wasn’t his idea of pleasure…  
  
“I only – planned this – to – to show you-!” He insisted, his words shattered by Draco’s thrusts shaking him. “Show you I – I don’t have to be hurt, or humiliated for you to feel good! It felt good, didn’t it?!” He demanded.  
  
Draco paused in his thrusts for a stabbing moment. _It did feel good._ His pride was interfering before he had a chance to speak. He pulled slowly from Harry's body, loud wet noises sounding as he pulled away. Staggering back onto his heels, he was stopped from standing by Harry’s hand around his wrist. Silently he attempted to remove his arm from Harry's grasp, but he wasn't budging.  
  
Harry turned slowly, his body aching. Green eyes flared as they stared at Draco, heavy breaths panting from his lips. “It felt good, and you didn’t have to torment me into it or torture me, you got pleasure out of me giving myself to you willingly as opposed to _dubiously consenting_.”  
  
The blond scanned his face for a long time, something unnamed, foreign flitting behind his lashes as he blinked. Then Draco pulled at his wrist again, determined for Harry not to see the look in his eyes, when suddenly, the grasp around him tightened and Harry yanked him back down against his body.  
  
“Don’t start what you can’t finish, Mr Malfoy,” Harry whispered, words ghosting over Draco’s slightly parted lips. He tilted his head slightly and the hand not occupied with Draco’s wrist slid up into haphazard blond tendrils, bringing that mouth down to his own, gently this time. Harry inhaled sharply, smoothing his bloody tongue over the tip of Draco’s before drawing back slightly, waiting to see how the unmoved once-Slytherin would react.  
  
Watching Harry turn on his knees, Draco's face felt extremely hot. He leant forward and buried his reddening cheeks into Harry's back, guiding those hips slowly back against him until his backside was almost flush against his hips. He held his cock in place against Harry's twitching hole and slowly edged it inside. But he did not speak through his groans. He couldn't bring himself to attempt words, or admit defeat. He just moved in slow, passionate strokes into that body, feeling quite out of his depth without the rough haste.  
  
His cock felt like solid fire when Harry swallowed him completely, his insides hot and silky in a way that he hadn't noticed before. He shuddered as he withdrew a little, tingles shooting through him. He was so glad Harry could not see his face. Because he felt (for the first time) very embarrassed. He felt like an incompetent virgin.  
  
Harry gasped out in strangled pleasure, tipping his head back onto the support of Draco’s shoulder, pushing back slightly into each movement. “Ahh… That’s nice, slowly…” He couldn’t help but notice that for once, Draco wasn’t saying anything, just panting heavily in Harry’s ear. Flushed with renewed arousal, Harry’s hand slithered down his own body, grasping his swelling erection and groaning loudly. It felt like he was being slowly pulled inside out, and it was so good…  
  
Hesitantly, he turned his head to flick his tongue out over Draco’s neck, feeling that flushed skin shudder. He smirked, mouthing the furiously hot flesh before sucking an earlobe gently between his lips. The thrusts deepened but remained smooth and languid in response. “That’s nice,” Harry hissed hotly again in the shell of that ear, the erection buried inside him thickening at the husky murmur of his voice.  
  
“Ahhhhh…” Draco moaned quietly, when Harry nibbled at his lobe. He clenched his eyelids shut so he didn't have to see the look on Harry's face. He jerked a little deeper then, his full balls slapping lightly against Harry’s legs with each movement. “S-So good!” He managed out, the muscles in his bum tightening and his erection swelling until it was near-painful. He had never felt anything like this. Even with his most regular whores he was always in a rush with sex, rough and demanding and…  
  
What was happening?  
  
“This… It feels… _different_ ,” He stuttered. He wasn't quite sure which way to move his head for the better to avoid Harry seeing his face. “Why does it – it fells like I’m melting?!”    
  
“Because you’re enjoying it, not just feeling it,” Harry replied huskily, biting gently into his neck a final time before leaning forwards, supporting his body with his arms on the ground. Draco felt different inside him, around him somehow. Looking back over his shoulder, he slid back down, his tight entrance swallowing Draco’s cock completely, his arse flush against those pale hips. “Go…faster!” Harry panted, cheeks coloured with embarrassment. This felt so strange…  
  
His fingers tightened around his cock and he gasped thickly as he squeezed, pre-cum drooling from the slit. “Hmm, _Merlin_! You feel…huge… _More_ …” Tipping his shoulders to support him on the floor, he rolled his heavy balls in his other hand, jerking back into Draco’s body eagerly. This felt so much better.  
  
“B-Bloody hell!” The blond exhaled, his hands racing over Harry's front and up to his pierced nipples. Both hands tweaked at the ring slightly and he felt Harry sink deeper onto his cock (if he get could any deeper that was). Draco's fingers flicked the rings and twisted them slightly, rubbing the sensitive nubs and he felt Harry writh around along him, sending a vibrating shudder through his bones. Why did it feel so good just to feel him react?  
  
Draco's hands slipped from his torso down to his sides, tickling down over his sensitive hips. Harry jerked forwards then and Draco's fingers ventured further down until they reached his soft, round cheeks, spreading them wider. The wrinkled skin between the cheeks was pulled taut and he heard Harry moan loudly. His smile returned with a touch of confidence, his tongue darting out and smoothing up along his quivering spine.   
  
“Oh! Draco, you’re killing me…!” He squirmed deliciously at he torment, as that tongue tasted his flesh, those hips jerking faster into him now. He stroked his swollen head in frantic circles with his thumb as he alternatively fucked his hand and Draco’s cock. His pink puckered opening was stretched and clenching wantonly, so that Draco groaned into his skin.   
  
Grinding vigorously back into the blond’s body, Harry cried out, those hands creeping up his chest, caressing his skin before sliding back and tugging his nipples again. He spread his legs wider now, pleasured murmurs spilling over his lips, echoing softly in the tiled room. He was so close, so tightly wound and close to release. “Oh…yes…” He ground out, jaw clenched as his tightening channel slid down, clinging to every subtle curve of Draco’s member. “Say something…to me… _please_!” He had no idea why he wanted to hear his voice so badly, but the blond _always_ said something and it was unnerving to hear only subtle groans, as if he was restraining himself.  
  
Draco reached down to Harry's blistering cock, swatting his hand away. “Let me touch it.” He didn't know what was wrong with him, why was he doing what Harry wanted? He was letting his guard down, for once in his life and it felt thrilling. “L-Let me make you cum,” He whispered. He wasn't really sure where these words were coming from, but they were what Harry wanted to hear and his brain was working without really thinking at the moment. Just existing. Like this. With Harry. It was as close to bliss as he had ever hoped to feel.   
  
Harry swore his skin began to bubble when Draco’s hand closed around him, sweeping his thumb over the dripping slit before fisting the thick length hard. He shuddered, saliva escaping his lips a little. He was salivating it was so good. “Yes!” He hissed out, “Like that…make me…” His teeth clenched again, liquid fire blooming in his groin. He was so close. His body undulated, writhing back into Draco’s hot body and then into the hand that stroked him frantically.   
  
“I’m…” But he said nothing, he couldn’t, as his cock throbbed, his climax spurting thick creamy strands over Draco’s fingers. His arse clenched madly, wetly around Draco’s quickening thrusts and Harry slumped slightly, gasping with violent shudders as Draco continued to fist his sensitive cock. “C-Cum…cum in me, I want you to!” He insisted, for the first time asking for something he was so furiously revolted by, but whether it was due to his spiralling, fog of bliss or the remaining alcohol’s influence, he wasn’t sure, and again, wouldn’t care until morning.   
  
Draco's eyes widened slightly at the request. He gripped Harry's cock with one hand and his hip with the other, moving him faster over his sweltering prick. Draco felt his groin tense up and swell inside Harry's clenching body. His shaft felt like it was about to burst, molten lava burning up through his core.   
  
“K-Keep moving. Keep moving!” He pleaded. So unlike him, but he was reaching that place, getting far too close. He jerked upwards to alleviate the sudden rush, but it wasn't helping, he was going to cum soon, he could feel it.  
  
Harry set both hands on the floor for leverage, rolling his hips back, his hole twitching tightly in the aftermath around Draco’s hardness. Harry smirked breathlessly as Draco made a sound of greedy pleasure, the sound reverberating off the tiles and Harry steadied his rocking on one hand, his other reaching down under himself to rub Draco’s heavy balls.  
  
“Hmm, come on, Mr Malfoy,” Harry panted hazily, “Show me what you’ve got…!” His body was so needy and desperate after completion, and he wriggled eagerly for anything Draco had to offer. _Maybe I am a slut,_ he thought dazedly, _or I feel like it, and that’s why it annoyed me when he said it…_  
  
Draco bit down in haste on the side of his lip, so hard he drew a small line of blood, but he couldn't stop biting. Why was Harry such a bad, irresistable habit? Far more dangerous and addictive than a line of drugs or a swig of booze. He sometimes wished he could just give him up but he knew it was just as unlikely as giving up breathing. His balls tumbled in Harry's hand and his hips jerked faster and faster. This was it.  
  
“Ahh! I'm c-cumming!” The blond hissed, faster and faster until he erupted in a white blissful haze where everything faded into a light mist of ecstasy. He fell forward on Harry's back, breathing heavily as the white substance continued to leak deeper into Harry’s body. _What just happened?_ He slowly tried to catch his breath and shifted sideways so his cock released itself, a thick trail of his climax oozing out of Harry’s pink, raw entrance in his wake. He shut his eyes then and remained beside Harry for a moment on the bathroom floor, his arm hanging loosely over him.   
  
Harry gasped for breath, sitting up shakily and summoned his wand into his hand. It slammed into his palm weakly and he flicked it lazily to clean his body and Draco’s, noting the way Draco seemed guarded about Harry waving his wand at him. Smirking slightly at that, Harry stumbled to his feet, glancing down at Draco exhaustedly. “Coming to bed?” He asked quietly, “You can always call in sick tomorrow morning – you do own the Prophet after all.”  
  
Draco silently stood up and shoved past him awkwardly. Climbing into the bed, he ignored him and collapsed into the pillow. His pride felt damaged, in more ways than he cared to admit. “Night!” He said quickly and like some kind of petulant child, he rolled the quilt over him and buried his flustered face beneath it.  
  
  
 _~To Be Continued..._


	8. Hostile Revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ VERY VERY IMPORTANT: This chapter contains the last 'torture' scene in the story really, after this there is a turning point BUT this is the worst of them all, it's vile and repulsive and you'll all cringe if you have sense. But it's not meant to be enjoyed or meant to be nice, it's meant to be horrid. If you don't want to read that kind of dark nasty vileness then you should best skip the whole first scene. PLEASE NOTE THIS WARNING WAS SERIOUS because I don't want any complaints. It's not meant to be nice. It's not even remotely sexual. You've been warned.
> 
> Rest assured this will be a turning point for everyone.

[Eight]  
 **Hostile Revelations**  
  
  
  
Draco wasn’t sure what it was that awoke him. The morning’s light was blocked out by the thick drapes and the house elf hadn’t come to wake him yet – it was a mystery. That is, until something hot wriggled into his side and he tilted his head to see Harry, fast asleep, mouth slightly open and pressing unwittingly into him, no doubt for heat, since the fire had long-since died in the night. And there was no way in hell Harry would _snuggle_ consciously. He scowled at the sight, it’s pleasantness reminding him all-too fully of the embarrassment of last night…  
  
The warmth and the comfort felt nice against him, but he wouldn’t award his treacherous body such luxuries and slowly (so as not to wake Harry and give him the satisfaction of seeing him sneak away) he slipped out of the bed, puling on some loose-fitting trousers quickly without bothering with boxers before walking into the living area, shutting the door quietly behind him. No sooner had it swung shut, however, than there was a small _‘pop’_ and the house elf appeared at his side. He jumped at the sudden appearance, sneering at the creature as a result and moving over to take a seat on the couch.  
  
“Breakfast,” he spat at the thing, “Just for myself, my husband isn’t up yet.” But the elf stood there, unmoved and he was forced to speak again. “What is it?”  
“Please, Master Malfoy, Sir!” The little thing chirped, bowing his head low to the carpet so that his bat-like ears flopped forwards oddly. “There is an employee of yours to see you, a reporter from the Prophet, Master Malfoy, Sir!”  
  
“Move, Eric,” The blond replied. Shoving the elf aside, he strolled across the large sitting room and out into the hallway, where the reporter was in fact waiting.   
  
“Hi, sorry, I must look a mess,” Draco began, with a politeness you would never know existed, if you hadn't witnessed it first hand. The reporter smiled.  
“That's quite all right, I simply came by to give you this, I feel you should see it – I managed to stop it before it reached the paper…” The reporter’s smile swiftly changed to a look of unease when she handed the papers to Draco.   
  
Draco's eyes widened and he swallowed hard when he saw the image clipped to the parchment. A heavy weight of disgust and repulsion plummeted through his stomach, and a mixture of something between rage and heartache clawed at his chest. “Errr, thank you,” He managed out. “Would you leave now?” The reporter just nodded, quietly stepping back along the hall where Draco knew one of the elves would escort her out.  
  
“Shall I give the word for the pictures and all knowledge of them to…disappear, Mr Malfoy, Sir?” She called back, looking over her shoulder carefully. Her employer merely gave a stiff nod. “They will never reach print, Sir,” she assured him, before climbing into the carriage, leaving Draco standing there, hands curled tightly, shaking with fury as his eyes stared at the photographs. It was a wizarding photograph but it was quite obviously a muggle bar – this must have been where Harry went last night.  
  
In each of the pictures, Harry sat with a dazed, smug expression on his features, a semi-naked girl grinding haplessly over his body. In some flickers of movement, there appeared that Harry was saying something, but Draco could not tell what. Anger, red-hot and _searing_ licked through his limbs, and he turned, flying back into his chambers.   
  
So that was where he had learned his little trick? He had tried to seduce him, had tried to rein him in and break away his barriers with a few tricks he’d learnt off a muggle stripper? The bedroom door crashed against it’s frame, ricocheting off the hinges as he slammed it behind him. Harry bolted upright in bed, fumbling for his glasses in a panic and staring around, as if expecting a massacre. Draco just stood in the door, still shaking, the pictures bending under his grasp.   
  
“W-What’s wrong?!” Harry gasped, throwing the covers off, mindless of his nakedness and turning to face him, caution etched into his face. _The idiot was bloody lucky it was a muggle bar,_ Draco thought, unable to move for that moment, glaring at the idiot’s face, the idiot who had manipulated him last night! _If any other reporters beside my own had seen that display…_  
  
“Draco,” Harry tried again, pulling the sheet back over his lap to preserve his dignity now the initial shock had faded, and Draco continued to stare at him with a fixed loathing. “What’s the matter?”  
  
Draco glared at the pictures a while longer before tossing them over the bed so that they rained over the quilt. “Learning a few tricks from a stripper?! What the fuck is this? I was right wasn't I? You _are_ a fucking slut!” Draco hissed with all the venom his voice could muster. Harry quivered as he plucked up one of the moving pictures, dread filling his every blood cell.  
  
No sooner had the dread begun to register in his head, however, than he jumped back at the sight of Draco standing drectly over him. Those hands clenched into white-knuckled fists and then Draco attacked. He seized a handful of dark hair and dragged him from the bed. He watched him struggle, and stumble and cry out at the comparatively minute pain.  
  
“No one makes a fool of me you prick!” Draco snarled  
  
Harry winced, scrambling up to his knees and dodging the next slap Draco was about to deal – barely. “I didn’t! I just went out – I wanted to get drunk so I could come onto you properly without any inhibitions!” He leapt to the side when Draco went for him again, bumping into the bed as he moved. He cringed at the pain shooting through his toe from where he hit it, but whirled to face Draco nevertheless.  
  
“I told you! I just wanted you to see it felt good without having to hurt me! And the stripper was just there in the club and Dean and Seamus, they were insulting… _this_ -” Harry gestured between them, “So I let her,” he tipped his head at the photographs, “give me a lap-dance, but I told her not to touch me. She _can’t_ touch me, I cant cheat on you! Or I’d die!”   
  
Draco reached for him again, and this time, he was too quick for Harry. Harry moved but those fingers curled around his naked shoulder, nails biting into the flesh and slamming him hard against the bedpost. It creaked forebodingly, but didn’t break, Harry’s skin, however was a different matter. He was so sure a nice purple bruise was already brewing. His body tumbled to the floor and Draco’s knees straddled him, biting into his sides as he tugged Harry’s head back by his hair.  
  
“I’m not – I just did it to try and make this _fucked up_ ‘marriage’ more endurable, maybe even _pleasant_ – that’s all! I never wanted this to–” but he was cut off as Drco’s free hand flew to his throat, crushing his adams’s apple spitefully. Harry’s fingers shot up, clawing at Draco’s wrists as he spluttered for air, those cold, furious grey eyes glowering at him.  
  
Harry knew what he had done though – it had been wrong. It was lucky Draco owned the prophet, or else that photo would be all over the paper and the wizarding world. And a Malfoy’s image was everything. Draco couldn’t have been more angry with him.  
  
“Shut up! Just _shut up_! I don’t want your bloody excuses! How _dare you_ let that hired tramp rub you all over when you’re _mine_?!” Draco almost choked on his tongue and his grin grew sadistic and crazed. His hand shot down for one of Harry's nipple piercings and ripped the ring roughly upwards against the skin.  
  
“Slut…you slut…!”   
  
Harry cried out in agony when Draco pulled the body bar harder and harder upwards until the skin finally split. Red, fiery blood burst from the skin and Harry screeched, his hands flying to cover the wounded area as well as his other nipple. “Bad boys must be punished!” Draco repeated, over and over until Harry began to lose himself in the blistering agonsy. The bloody glistened over his suddenly nauseatingly white flesh. This was only the begging…  
  
“STOP IT!” Harry screamed, his body writhing in pain. His hands kept covering to the torn skin, clamping tightly over it as his body tipped sideways. “You wanker! I didn’t let her touch me, that’s what I am saying in the picture, you can see I am!” He choked, he spluttering in pain, tears of agony pricking his eyes. “I told her I was married, I _told_ her she couldn’t touch me! WHY DO YOU THINK I’M BLOODY SMILING?!” His shoulder slammed into the floor as Draco released him and he curled up a little, protecting his body as his other hand shot out, summoning his wand to his hand.  
  
“You said it! You said you felt better than you’d ever felt last night, when you weren’t hurting me! So stop it!” He held his wand out between them as a warning, his arm shaking from the pain that split across his torn skin.  
  
The blond dived in then, taking Harry’s lips roughly, painfully between his teeth, biting not kissing. “Should have known it last night, even your lips taste vile! I can't even bear to look at you…” Draco looked away from him then, squeezing Harry’s wrist until the wand dropped with the pain exacted upon his bones and rushing into the other room.  
  
Harry could hear him crashing from the other room, clearly searching for something, but his thought process was cut short when his husband returned. And he snatched up his wand again, rising to his feet. “Get away from me, Malfoy. This – this is… _beyond_ any pleasure. You’re sick, you’re – you’re _messed up_! You think this is _arousing_? It’s fucking torture, not sex you creep!”  
  
What was this – this _adrenaline_ , coursing through him like fierce rapids, _forcing_ him to quicken his steps into such drastic actions? Act like some mad man? What was driving this? And why did he even care? Why _was_ he doing this? Why was he ripping this man he… This man apart piece by piece, he was enjoying it almost as much as Harry was!  
  
“Don’t you turn your wand on me or I’ll _snap it in two_!” Draco growled, surging forwards for his own, but just as he reached it, a stinging hex shot across his cheek – from Harry’s wand. He whirled to face him, his own wand in hand. “ _Incarcerous_!” Draco screeched but no sooner had he cast than Harry leapt sideways, rolling over the bed.  
  
“ _Expelliarmus_!”  
  
Draco dodged his spell easily and hurdled the bed to stand before him. “Go for the kill, _Malfoy_ , not the mercy,” Draco sneered, kicking Harry’s wrist nastily, the shock making his wand fly under the bed. “ _Incarcerous_!” He spat again and this time ropes flew from his wand, binding Harry’s wrists. Before the Chosen One could pull another trick to escape, he seized his bound wrists and dragged him into the other room, not so much as flinching as Harry’s shoulder slammed into the doorframe.  
  
Before the oddly roaring fireplace he dropped Harry into the conjured, wooden chair by the fireplace, hastily binding his hands and feet to the limbs of the chair. Harry sneered at him from where he sat, pain still throbbing in his torn nipple. Whatever Malfoy was about to do, no hand-job or similar would be enough to make up for what he’d just done.   
  
“You will sit here and simmer until you are near the brink of death you slut,” Draco choked, his voice warningly mad. Jealousy had driven him to this? Or what he considered the betrayal of his reluctant trust. “Because I don't care about you, not at all after this,” he finished and Harry continued to stare up at him.  
  
 _What type of twisted world did you grow up in to think this is how you react when you’re angry or scared?_ Harry wondered through the fog of pain.  
  
Harry sneered up at him, agonised tears streaking his cheeks but his eyes hard and unmoved. He had no answer for Draco’s disgust, no answer for the insult to his taste or appearance, because that was the only insult that had phased him. “She didn’t touch me! And I didn’t touch her! If I had, I’d have been _dead_!” He insisted, and his hands tightened in their bonds. But no sooner than he tried to stand, than the ropes wrapped tighter around him, threating to cut off his circulation if he moved another inch.  
  
“You twat! I didn’t do anything! Nothing happened, why are you so angry – why are you doing this to me?!” He struggled in his bonds, the chair creaking ominously as he fought the rope pinching his delicate skin. His head shot up as Draco shifted, green eyes hard and furious. “You care about me, maybe not enough to stay your hand but you care enough to react! I’ve made you angry by doing nothing at all, if you didn’t care then you would’ve just ignored me!”  
  
SMACK!  
  
Harry cried out, his head snapping backwards, neck cracking as Draco’s fist crashed into his cheek, nearly knocking the chair over. Blood burst from his lip, trailing down his chin and Harry turned back to him slowly, staring up at him with utter disgust before spitting a mouthful of blood in the blond’s face. He’d be damned if he was beaten into submission, into being Draco Malfoy’s pet whore again, even if it only incited more pain…  
  
Draco slid his hand across his face and flicked the splashes of blood aside, but he was still stained. Forever sullied and sick and rotten. His fury soared and his hands wobbled with a worrying tremble, flying to Harry’s throat again, squeezing. “Don’t you – don’t you talk like you know _anything_!" Draco screamed, his fingernails digging into that skin as both his hands held his fragile neck in his powerful grasp. Harry choked and the blood from his lip dribbled down his chin onto Draco’s hand, staining him further, forever with the pain he’d inflicted.  
  
Harry's eyes began to water, the vessels swelling, burning crimson under the pressure of the hands on his throat. Draco’s eyes were just as red, searing, bleeding with a fury so intense it felt like his own throat was in a death-grip. But it had already felt like that for years now, felt like someone was ripping his heart out through his chest. Only he wasn't the one being held. Harry was. And he was holding him, choking him of life…  
  
Draco finally pulled his hands away at that and Harry gasped for air. Kneeling down, he reached for Harry’s cock. But Harry knew that whatever reason he was visiting that place today wasn't going to be one that he liked. And he shuddered at the possibilities of the damage he could do there…  
  
“Don’t!” Harry gasped, as those hot fingers stroked his cock. He clenched his eyes shut, turning his head to the side and concentrating on the throbbing bruise brewing on his back, the blood pouring from his split lip or his shredded nipple – anything besides the fist jerking his cock. He didn’t want to even _think_ what he’d do once it was hard.  
  
But his tactics failed and his cock swelled. He cracked open his eyes and stared down, wriggling frantically to get away once he saw that wicked, pained smirk across the blond’s lips. The rope pinched his skin spitefully but he couldn’t stop moving, or looking for a way out. But his hands were bound flat to the arms of the chair – he couldn’t call his wand to him!   
  
“Whatever you’re going to do, Draco, you don’t have to. I’m not the one that’s made you angry – you’ve done it to yourself! You let me in last night and now – now you think I’ve betrayed you. And you’re angry for putting yourself in a position to be betrayed but I _haven’t_ betrayed you!!!”  
  
“Shut up!” Draco snapped back, molesting that member until it was standing tall in his grasp. He grinned nastily at the sight of it, reaching for his wand again and tugging the skin on the underside of his cock taut, pressing his wand into the base.  
  
Harry tensed and rightly so, for a mere second later, agony exploded in his most sensitive place.   
  
Draco murmured the spell (innocent in any other circumstance) and watched as the needlepoint that had appeared whipped through the loose skin he held, weaving in and out, tearing choking, sickening cries from Harry’s chest. Blood raced down from the tiny wounds and Draco felt blind now, numb. He couldn’t see the blood or hear the begging. He couldn’t see the thread the needle was weaving through the delicate skin.  
  
“P-Please! STOP! I’m begging you, stop!” Harry spluttered, but Draco was gone, it felt like someone else now, someone different, the dark shadow in the driver’s seat, not the man that had held him last night. Not now. He couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but scream. The pain was unbearable. He shook his head, body quivering in the attempts to be free and his eyes clenched shut.  
  
What was this? Why was the sadistic bastard _doing this_ if he didn’t enjoy it?! Since he clearly wasn’t! But somehow, Harry lost his sense of thought then, he couldn’t breathe. Conciousness was swiftly failing him….  
  
Then, suddenly, the nauseating tugging of the magical needle and thread stopped. Harry’s body froze as bile rose up, burning his throat, his head lolling as the darkness creapt in. It had felt like an eternity, that torture, but it had been but a few fleeting seconds. _Now,_ Harry thought hazily, _now I think I could die._  
  
“You won’t betray me again,” he heard Draco say distantly, as the needle vanished, leaving a neat ‘M’ sewn into the skin on the back of his wilted penis.  
  
“I… _didn’t_ …in the first…place!” Harry hissed out, his vision blurring with the dizziness of nausea. He suddenly felt very light-headed and queasy, and the pain and the heat from the roaring fire just behind him didn’t help. “Y-You…you’re sick, Malfoy…I can’t…can’t believe I ever let you…touch me!” His head bowed forward limply on his neck. So dizzy, he swore he watched the floor lurch towards him. And then, as he looked down, seeing exactly what Malfoy had done, his vision faded into black.  
  
He wasn’t permitted the escape of unconciousness long, however, for no sooner had he passed out than Malfoy revived him, leering at him with a sickening glare. Draco had placed some trust in him last night. And Harry had betrayed that trust in his eyes. It was evidently so rarely given, and though Harry could understand, even sympathise with it, nothing justified the sick things Malfoy was doing…  
  
“B-Burn in _hell_ you twisted _wanker_!” Harry sneered as his vision blurred back into focus. The nausea had only intensified on his waking, sweat beading down his forehead an dropping onto his naked chest from the heat. “I never betrayed you, but if you think _this_ will earn my loyalty you’re _pathetically_ misguided!”   
  
Draco barely looked at him, he couldn't even bring himself to. Blanking his words from his mind he pushed the chair in front of the blistering heat that was radiating from the fire and left him there. Spitting on the floor beside him and grunting the word _'scum'_ as he left.  
  
“I don't know when I'll be back,” Were his final words as he left the room and reached for his jacket. Moving over to the door to their suite, he left Harry to sit in the heat. But as the adrenaline, the spell of anger diminished, the ‘revenge’ he had just taken began to leave a bitter taste in his mouth…  
  
  
  
Harry wriggled furiously in his seat, crying out and blood finally wept from the blisters inflicted by the pinching rople. “Don’t! Don’t you dare leave me here! You spiteful coward!” But Malfoy simply offered him a loathing glare, before slamming the door behind him, leaving Harry to his pain.  
  
Harry screamed in fury, tugging at his bond despite how they hurt – he couldn’t just sit here and accept his fate! He jerked his body, back and forth the chair groaning menacingly. Harry cried out in shock as the chair surrendered to his struggles, toppling over, bringing his head crashing into the hard, unforgiving floor. He could taste blood in his mouth now, and the room twisted, a sickening, high-pitched whistle filling his ears from how he had hit his head. He felt so sick…  
  
He didn’t know how he was getting out of this one, but once he was, there was no way in hell he’d make himself vulnerable to any more of Malfoys’s tortures, he was done being the martyr to help Malfoy, when clearly the blond would only spit his assistance back in his face.  
  
That was it, his stomach lurched forebodingly and he turned his head as much as possible to avoid soiling himself, just before he vomited his stomach contents (or lack thereof) up onto the floor. Sweat shot through his skin, sizzling there like oil on a fire as the flames from the hearth roared behind him. He was dizzy and unbearably hot again, and all he could do was shift backwards a little to avoid laying in his own vomit, before he passed out again…  
  
  
  
Draco felt a heavym sickening sensation plummet down into his gut like an anchor in the roaring tide. Pain gathered in his chest and made his throat dry and numb, a nauseating feeling swimming though his being. A trust he had never given _anyone_ , not even his own mother had been thrown in his face – Harry had deserved it hadn’t he?   
  
But the memory of Harry’s screaming made him feel suddenly uncertain. Why did he feel so _sick._ So humiliated and betrayed – and if he felt so bad, why did his pride stop him from turning back into that room and…  
  
He came to a halt halfway down the main staircase as he caught sight of Snape and his parents talking in the foyer. “Why are you all loitering in the foyer?” He asked simply. Snape and his father looked at him, but did not speak, where his mother walked towards him and smiled softly.   
  
“Draco, dear, we were planning on taking you and Harry out with us today. Perhaps for a meal–?”  
”I already have plans, as you can see and Harry asked to be left alone today,” Draco said quickly.  
  
Severus eyed the younger Malfoy suspiciously, it was certainly not unreasonable for Harry to want to be left alone, particularly by a family he was forced into, and disliked, but it was peculiar for Draco Malfoy to _allow_ Harry to do as he wanted. He could but hope that Draco was already changing for the better, but he doubted it…  
  
“And how is your husband adjusting to your… _lifestyle_ , Draco,” Severus inquired, Lucius remaining still, and quiet, but Narcissa passing him an uneasy look, as if she knew more than she was letting on. “Our _once_ Mr Potter must find you…a difficult spouse, I hope you are treating him well?”  
  
Draco stopped in his place and gazed over at them warily. “I don't really think that's your concern, is it? But if you must know, we’re getting along fine – like a house on fire,” He assured, shoving his arms through his jacket sleeves. “Now if you don't mind, I have things I need to be getting on with and I’d appreciate it if you left my part of the manor alone today, if that's not to much trouble. Harry really desires his privacy today.”  Draco was cautious of his words with his mother present. He just wished they would leave. “I am sorry I won't be joining you, another time perhaps?”  
  
“Something to hide, Draco?” Severus added dully, but the blond merely swirled out the door and disapparated with a ‘pop’. The Potion’s Master and Narcissa Malfoy shared a look, before sweeping over towards the fireplace, Lucius at their side, seemingly indifferent to Draco’s behaviour.   
“To lunch then,” Narcissa said distractedly, “Perhaps if you return with us, Severus, then you might be able to see Harry for yourself?”   
“They could make an effort for a family appearance,” Lucius cut in, not letting Severus reply, “It would be good for the publicity, the family name, but of course, they cannot even manage that…” With that, Lucius stepped into the grate, throwing the floo powder down before the emerald flames enveloped him, Narcissa and Snape quickly following suite.   
  
“I wouldn't worry, dearest, there's always other times,” Narcissa murmured as she arrived beside the two men in the small, wizarding town that had been their destination. Snape felt rather like a third wheel nowm dinning with the Malfoys without Harry and Draco there, but didn't dare let his guard down enough to show it when they reached the intended café.   
  
The restaurant may have been small, but was filled with the highest quality furniture and has the best dishes this side of England could offer. They were seated around a generous sized table, when Severus Snape braved speech again. “Do you think much has changed in Draco, since he and Potter married?” He asked carefully.  
  
“Only that they keep to their rooms a great deal of the time,” Narcissa replied, since Lucius was far to busy being affronted that Draco had refused to come. She laid a napkin in her lap and pulled the menu towards her, scanning it without really seeing. “At times Draco seems so… _relieved_ almost, like a weight has been lifted, but then at others he becomes as short-tempered and… _distant_ as always. Like two different people…” She cast a glance over to her husband, not the least bit interested in their son’s welfare, and gave a little sigh under hear breath, before looking to Severus. Wasn’t it unfit that the Potion’s Master seemed to care more about Draco than Lucius? His own father?  
  
“Severus, I think that Harry could be… _good_ for Draco, but only if Draco…surrenders himself a little, enough to make room for someone else inside his head…”  
  
Snape nodded gracefully, tilting his head into the menu to hide the concern beginning to ebb across his features. Something had been unnervingly _off_ about Draco this morning. “Yes, I very much agree, he has always been so closed off and I'm hoping Potter will change that, after all, he does make saving people his business,” Snape said with slight venom. He had never been Harry's biggest fan. But he knew he would be good for Draco. Maybe, if given the chance.  
  
“He has what it takes to push the boundaries at your son’s malicious heart, I can give him that,” Snape offered, glancing up at the waitress who had just arrived to take their orders.  
  
“I…I worry, about my son, Severus,” Narcissa murmured, leaving her husband to order for the both of them, as always. “And… Harry suffers a great deal behind closed doors, I do not know why he does not just…” She drew off, pulling her glass of wine that the waitress had set before her and sipping at it thoughtfully. “I have to give Harry sleeping draughts just so that he can rest enough to recover from my son’s… _attentions_ … Draco is not aware of course but… Things cannot go on this way forever. I do not even know the worst of it, I am sure.”  
  
After instructing the waitress away, Lucius sat by passively and allowed both Narcissa and Severus to continue their discussion without an interruption. He was sure Draco was taking _good care_ of Harry.  
  
“I will not interfere, of course,” Narcussa assured Snape, having always valued his advice, “Though I believe that…it will take a great deal to make my son change at all… It could well take a miracle.” The woman brought her spoon up as the start was set before them and dipped it into the soup, not noticing the small smile that flickered at the lips of Severus Snape in response to her words.  
  
* * *  
  
In a quiet office, further down town from where the Malfoys and Severus were dining, Draco was shifting through the small, orderly chaos that sat on his desk. But he came to a halt when he held _that_ picture with clenched fingers, he felt so infuriated. He was torturing himself, but still could not tear his eyes away.   
  
Quickly, he turned the photograph upside down and tossed it across the desk away from him, reaching underneath the desk for the small filing cabinet there. Pulling out a pale, unlabelled folder, he laid it out open on the desk before him, surveying the loose-ends and cuttings. He had cut pictures from the _Daily Prophet_ when he and Harry were just children at Hogwarts.  
  
Harry had always been in the newspaper, in magazines and Draco had obsessively cut out every article and stashed it away, like a foolish muggle girl fawning over her celebrity idol. Except his idol had been close enough to touch since he was eleven, and on the other side of a war since he was fifteen. He’d never dreamed he’d have the real thing…  
  
Glancing once more over the images, he sighed, bringing his hand to his head.  
  
He hated that he felt this way, this _need_ , this _obsession_ , he didn't even know what it was about Harry that made him want him so badly. And distancing himself had been working until this arranged marriage. Until then, he’d been able to leave school and flourish in business, earn his own money and forget all about Harry Potter. After the final battle, Harry's name had faded somewhat in the media and he, Draco had been able to feel _normal_ for a time. Unfazed by his useless, hopeless wants. But now…  
  
Forced to live with the very person he had spent his entire life running from – he hated it. He hated waking up beside his obsession every day knowing that even though he had finally had him, had the prize whom he had spent forever wanting, he felt further away than ever. And it was his own fault, his fault for allowing it to take him over. The malicious rage, the dark need to unleash his own suffering on everyone that tried to help, the twisted tortures he had witnessed and been _taught…_  
  
He’d spent nearly a decade wanting Harry bloody Potter, bleeding and hurting for that want and in his bitterness, when he finally had him close enough he had made Harry pay for that suffering tenfold. No, he didn't have him – he wasn't even close…  
  
Before the marriage, Harry detested him in every possible way and the bitter man Draco had become didn't know what to do to make Harry change his mind. So he did the only thing he knew how, in order to cope and save face, just as Lucius had told him to do.  
  
* * *  
  
The flames roared furiously, reaching towards the ceiling of the hearth and Lucius Malfoy stepped out into the hallway of his home, his wife and Severus following after him. The lights flared to life, ridding the foyer of the darkness the evening had brought with it. Warmth flooded the manor at their return and a small ‘pop’ was the only warning before a grey, craggy little house elf popped into view, taking everyone’s coats and scarves and setting them on the rack by the door. “I will retreat to my study for a while, dearest,” Lucius murmured dully, pressing a kiss he did not feel nor put emotion into, to his wife’s cheek, before moving up the stairs and out of sight.  
  
Narcissa turned to ask Severus into the drawing room, except, the house elf was still there – most unsual…  
  
“Is my son home yet, Eric?” She asked the elf and the creature shook it’s head frantically, pulling at it’s ears as if telling her anymore demanded punishment!  
“No! No mistress, Master Draco has not come home and… Oh Mistress!” The elf hurled himself at the staircase, slamming his head repeatedly into the banister as he squeaked, “Master Draco would consider it a betrayal by my telling you mistress! But Master Harry is – is-” He choked, as if being strangled, the charm of his kind torn between his loyalty to two of his family members, Draco and Harry.  
  
“Calm down, Eric,” Narcissa chimed in, glancing to Severus for aid as she leant down to the elf’s level. “I command you to stop punishing yourself – now, tell me, what of Harry?”  
  
The elf sniffled loudly, ceasing punishing himself at once to turn and face her. The elves always had preferred their mistress. “Master Harry is sick, mistress, he passed out when Master Draco left and hasn’t woken up!”  
  
Narcissa shot up, looking back to Severus, foreboding swelling in her chest. “Severus, I fear that Draco may…” But she could not force out the words, they died in her throat and both of them hurried up the stairs towards Draco and Harry’s wing of the manor. Surprisingly, the door was found unlocked when they reached it, and Narcissa stood back, allowing Severus to push it open.  
  
The smell from the room made her nearly heave. Vomit and blood and sweat filled the air and as they moved further into the main quarters, they saw by the fireplace, Harry lying unconscious, bound to a chair, sprawled across the floor by his own sick. Narcissa’s hand flew to her mouth and she froze as the Potion’s Master continued to move forwards to Harry’s side. “My word…!” She gasped out.  
  
“Potter? _Harry_ , wake up,” Snape tapped his cheek firmly, but got no response. “He’s out cold but breathing well. Get a flannel and a bowl of warm water, Narcissa?” He requested, quickly unbinding Harry's hands from the chair. Narcissa returned hasilt, setting the bowl of water down and using the flannel to pat Harry’s face clean.   
  
“What the devil was that boy of yours thinking…?” Severus hissed and then, his dark eyes caught sight of the ugly, brutal marking on the underside of Harry’s manhood.   
“Oh, Merlin!”  Narcissa felt faint with shock. _What was this?_ Her son, her only son – how could her child be capable of such… _evil?  
_   
Narcissa waved her wand then, banishing the stale puddle of vomit and extinguishing the fire in the hearth as Snape banished the chains and the chair, standing backwards and holding his wand aloft. “ _Mobilicorpus_!” He murmured, and Harrys unconscious body was lifted gently into the air. Pausing only to gather the bowl and flannel Narcissa had fetched him, Snape levitated Harry into the other room, setting him down gently on the bed before moving in to assist him. _He has been like this since this morning?!_ He realised with horror. It had been a few hours now!  
  
“Your son has a lot to answer for,” Snape sneered, never having truly been disappointed in Draco before, never, not even during the boy’s sixth year, when he had fallen prey to some pretty vulgar things. But nothing as bad as this, _this_ , that he had done of his own volition, with nobody forcing him! “ _Episkey_!” He chanted, watching the dark-haired boy’s split lip heal and no doubt any other surface injuries – except the revolting deed done to his penis.  
  
Snape grimaced at the sight of it, glancing up to see Narcissa wiping the sweat and blood from the boy’s face and neck. It was probably best that she did not see how bad it looked up close. “I am sure that he did not face the Dark Lord and save the wizarding world so that Draco Malfoy could bring him to this – _Severtio_!” Severus said calmly, adding the spell and watching with revulsion as the thread came loose. Wincing, he reached down to the boy’s bruised penis, plucking the thread out as gently as he could. On the bed, Harry hissed, even in sleep, his limbs shaking fitfully.   
  
Narcissa looked down at Harry as Severus removed the cotton, she couldn't bear to contemplate that her child had done this and she didn't wanna see what Snape was doing even though it was helping the boy. She brushed her hand tenderly over Harry's face that remained pale yet oddly flushed in places from the intense heat he’d been lying beside.  
  
“I wonder why he was sick,” she mused, “Unless the pain did it, for certainly the heat alone could not make him so... _poorly._ ” She wasn't sure why, but she needed some kind of reassurance that it was only the heat and he would be okay. That her son could be redeemed somehow in this matter.  
  
Severus finished pulling the cotton out at last. The cuts were not deep, but in such a tender place that was little constellation. An angry ‘M’ shape remained now but hopefully it would fade. His job done, Severus stepped back a little. “It is as if he _branded_ him, like chattle like…” Words failed him, he had not quite realised Lucius’s attempts at _instructing_ his son had been in the least bit successful.  
  
Reaching inside his robes for one of the vials he carried with him always, the potion’s master brought out one with a pinkish fluid inside. Reaching up to tip Harry’s head back, he poured the contents into his mouth, rubbing his throat to make sure he swallowed it. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Narcissa, pulling the sheets up to cover Harry’s lower body, although it was a bit late to preserve his dignity now…  
  
“That should heal those atrocious wounds ‘down there’, though they weren’t deep at all such a sensitive place needs to be healed quickly,” Severus explained as he sat back, happy that Harry had swallowed it all. “He will be sore and no doubt disorientated when he awakens, but he will be in no pain–”  
“But the sickness, Severus? Why would he be physically sick?” Narcissa persisted, still trying to desperately find a way that her only child did _not_ do this, although she knew, of course he had, and worse…  
  
“Apart from severe pain and shock? I believe that is something I had better discuss with your son,” Severus said quietly, his gaze snapping to Harry as the boy murmured incoherently, evidently stirring. “I have my suspicions, but I believe Draco has some explaining to do before I bring them to light…”  
  
Harry mumbled again, fingers clenching around nothing and a frown creasing his brow as he began to awaken slowly. At that precise moment, the door in the other room, the entrance to Draco and Harry’s quarters flung open loudly, their only warning before the blond in question appeared in the bedroom doorway.  
  
Narcissa and Snape stood up with alarm to Draco's arrival, while he stood stunned in the door way surveying the situation.   
  
“W-What are you doing in my part of the Manor?” He asked carefully, evidently unnerved at the sight of his beloved mother standing before him wearing a look of utter disgust, like nothing he had ever seen before. Trying to be cavalier, Draco threw his jacket aside and busied himself with setting his briefcase down on the dresser.  
  
“Draco! I want an explanation for this!” Narcissa hissed, storming towards him while he remained still as stone. Finally, Draco braved a glance to the bed where Harry was laying and he swallowed hard, before looking back to his mother.  
  
“I…I won’t be criticized on how I choose to punish my partner,” He said at last, not insulting his mother by lying but not forsaking his pride (for his father) either, trying to steer them away from it. Though the look on Severus's and his mother’s face told him they hadn't even begun.   
  
“Draco,” she part sighed, part gasped, leaning forwards to place her soft hands on her son’s cheeks, her eyes glassy. “Draco, you’re my son, you’re a good boy – all of the bad things you have done, you only did them because you were forced, in some way or another – why did you do this? To _Harry_? You’ve always wanted him and now he is yours?” Her voice quivered at the sadness in Draco’s eyes, but they were not remorse, they were sadness at upsetting her. Her hands slid down to squeeze her child’s shoulders, torn between her disgust and her love.   
  
“My dear boy,” she whispered, “What you have done, it is not punishment, it was _torture_. You owe Harry a life debt for when he saved you from the fiendfyre. We owe him our freedom for speaking for us at the hearings. Is this his repayment?” She watched her son flinch at the reminder, but as ever, he remained silent.   
  
On the bed, worlds away from where Snape, Narcissa and Draco hovered over him, Harry was stirring. It was as if a thick, heavy mist was clogging up his sensing, filling his head with fog, filtering every sound and sense into nonsense. An ache like he had never felt before exploded across the side of his head. That’s right, he’d hit it, hadn’t he? When he rolled onto the floor, chair and all? And then he was sick…his stomach still felt raw, but his mouth felt fine…  
  
He heard voices, but they were muffled, as if his head were under a pillow. Did he have a concussion? _Was_ his head under a pillow. Shakily and with great effort, he brought his hand up to touch his face – no, no pillow, but his head felt hot. Slowly his eyes opened, but nothing but a few hazy blurs of colour were seen. But he had his glasses on! He could feel them.  
  
The voices continued, bleeding further into hearing, he could make out the words now, but his full vision had yet to return and he felt too dazed to move, as if his limbs did not want to cooperate. He heard Draco’s voice then and Narcissa too, whilst a dark, black outline hovered over him – the only one that seemed to notice he was waking. Snape?  
  
Harry murmured quietly, his hand reaching for the soreness between his legs. He winced, it was tender but the thread was gone, he was normal again, or so he thought…  
  
“It's not…not really what you…I – I'm not _obsessed_ the way you keep saying!”  Draco shook his head with disgust, at himself. He couldn't believe he’d failed so badly in keeping his cool mask in place, that his cherished mother could see this deeply into his blackened, bitter heart, a heart he’d been taught to feel so _gravely_ ashamed of.  
  
“Draco, you _branded_ him for goodness sake! W-What is _wrong with you_? I didn't give birth to th-this!”  
  
Draco felt something inside his chest burst then. The disappointment, the _shame_ and utter despair he felt in hearing his own mother say those words to him, the pain crushed his insides until his eyes started to water. He spluttered around the growing lump in his throat, but caught himself before tears could touch his eyes. _Father would be proud,_ he thought bitterly.  
  
Rubbing his throbbing head carefully, he looked away from her, a mixture of feelings coursing through him, none of them he cared to think on. He wished he couldn’t feel anything at all. “I didn't mean for this! I mean…he _is okay_ , isn't he?” Both Narcissa and Draco looked over to Harry at that moment and noticed movement.   
  
“Oh, Harry! You're awake! Thank goodness!” Narcissa cried, looking round to him and away from Draco, reaching up to carefully stroke his face. He couldn't help but offer a weak smile at her tender touch.  
  
Harry nodded slowly, a wince breaking his features as he struggled to sit up. He felt Narcissa lean forward as if to assist him if he fell and he knew, as his vision slowly focused on her eyes, that she had pampered Draco in such away whenever the occasion arose. She loved her son, enough to be disappointed in him and enough to _still_ love him in spite of it.  
  
“I’m…alright,” he managed out, his throat raw from disuse and the acidity of the bile he had hurled up earlier. Yes he remembered now – _everything,_ as clear as day. His eyes found Draco then, found him staring at him, a mixture of relief and…something else, something Harry didn’t dare to believe etched into the younger Malfoy’s face. “I… How long was I unconscious?” He asked, looking up to Snape as the man suddenly moved, waving his wand for something, as if _searching…_  
  
“A few hours, you should drink to make up for the water you have lost to avoid dehydration,” Snape confirmed distractedly. His wand glided over Harry’s naked torso with long, repetitive strokes, making the _Chosen One_ squirm with discomfort at being examined so closely – even Draco didn’t look at him with such scrutiny. Had Draco done something else while he was knocked out? Something permanent? A curse of some kind? Why were they _all_ gathered around his bed – how did he even _get_ on the bed?!  
  
“I… How did I get here? I just passed out and…I think I vomited from the pain – did…who moved me?” He could not tear his eyes from Draco for any length of time, for some reason. The person who had done this to him and the person who was standing here now, they looked to be two different people…  
  
A quivering Draco stalked over to his cabinet and openly pulled out a glass, along with a bottle of vodka. He placed it down on the neighbouring dressing table and poured himself a glass, the sheer _pressure_ of the situation was making him crave it. And after what Severus and Narcissa had just witnessed, a mere drink would come as little surprise. He downed the glass then and slammed it back on the table causing them all to look over at him.   
  
“What?!” Draco asked exhaustedly at their odd expressions.   
  
Narcissa rose to her feet immediately and with a sudden _smack,_ she struck her son’s perfect face – for the first time in his life.   
  
_SLAP!_  
  
“You stupid, _stupid_ boy!” She snarled, snatching the bottle from the table. “What is wrong with you? Aren't you even going to apologise?!”  
  
Draco’s shamed gaze dropped, his eyes focusing on everything and _anything_ that wasn’t his mother’s disappointment. His hair hung into his face, shielding it from view as his eyes travelled over to Harry, who seemed to be glaring at him.   
  
Harry was a bit taken back at Narcissa’s scolding, he had always pictured her pampering her pure-blood prince, but it seemed that she was no different from any other mother. She loved him, and she wanted him to be a good man, whatever her _husband’s_ flaws…  
  
“He can’t,” Harry said to her, eyeing Snape out of the corner of his eye, he wished the man would stop scanning his wand over him, “Because it would dent his bloody pride too much to apologise.” He sat up a little straighter, wincing at the whole-body ache but not allowing it to stop him. Snape however, did try to immobilise him. “Would you stop that!” Harry hissed, swatting Snape’s wand away from him.  
“I am sorry,” the Potion’s master said, without any real sincerity, “But I…had to be sure…”  
Harry frowned. “Sure of what? I am healed aren’t I? I can’t feel any pain beyond an intense ache.”  
  
But Snape didn’t seem to be inclined to answer, and merely stepped back, considering him for a moment, while across the room, Narcissa rounded on her beloved son again.  
  
“Drinking, smoking, _drugs_?” She hissed as she scanned the contents of his cabinet, banishing it all from existance with a flick of her wand. “Is _this_ why you hurt him in such a revolting manner? You were inhibited? Under the influence?” Pain swelled in her chest as Draco gave a small, shamed shake of his head. She should have known that he would have been in his right mind to exact such a torture so flawlessly. “Draco…this has to _stop_ … Tell me that you repent and we can move on from this.”  
  
Draco smiled bitterly, handling the situation the only way he knew how. “You think I did this under the influence? It takes more than a smoke to go to those lengths, don't treat me like an idiot because–”   
“Well then get off your high horse and stop acting like one!” Narcissa interupted, stunning Draco and in doing so, silencing his pitiable attempt at justifying himself. “Of course I know you were in sane mind, which makes this all the more _unbearable_!”  
  
At that, Draco looked over at Harry with eyes that weren't completely free of arrogance and defiance – nevertheless, he swallowed a small bit of his pride. “Sorry,” He said simply. There, he had said it, if only for his mother at the very least.   
  
“You could at least say it like you mean it, Draco,” Narcissa admonished.  
  
“As much as Draco’s pride is an issue here and as much as apologies are required,” Snape began, his dark eyes still lingering on Harry, causing an unnatural shiver to run up the boy’s spine. “There are more pressing matters at hand…”  
  
Narcissa and Draco both turned to him, silenced by the severity in his voice, and the way he was staring at Harry, who shifted uncomfortably, pulling the duvet up a little higher on his body.   
  
“Draco,” Snape began carefully, displacing his gaze from one young Malfoy the next. “Have you given Harry anything? Drugs in combination with alcohol or potions? Anything that could cause a reaction with sleeping draughts?” He watched Draco shake his head slowly, grey eyes shifting to Harry, something oddly akin to anxiety crossing his features. “Has anyone been in a position to spike Harry’s food or drink?” Again, another shake of the head.  
  
“What?” Harry insisted, not able to quash all of the concern from his voice. Snape was talking like this was… _fatal_ or something! “Just tell me! Tell me what is wrong with me?! What did Draco do to me?!”  
  
 _It’s just as I first guessed,_ Harry thought. _He cursed me or something while I was unconscious…_  
  
“I do not believe Draco did this to you intentionally – or even knowingly. I believe that somehow, you were spiked with a potion, at _any_ time over the last few months, and Draco did the rest.”  
Harry growled under his breath. “Enough with the cryptic rubbish!” Harry declared, his hands tightening into fists to stop the shaking. “Tell me!”  
Snape considered him, as a doctor might do a dying man, before eventually ending Harry’s suffering…or perhaps only beginning it.  
  
“It seems that due to _someone’s_ interference, you were made fertile, you were _changed_ internally – made susceptible to Draco’s… You are pregnant.”  
  
  
 _~To Be Continued..._


	9. Wavering Verdict

[Nine]  
 **Wavering Verdict**  
  
  
  
Harry frowned, looking from Draco, to Narcissa and back to Snape again. A joke, surely? He felt like the remaining Weasley twin had played a cruel joke on him…  
  
“Oh,” Narcissa gasped, her voice high-pitched, but not shocked beyond belief. She thought that this was…an acceptable response? Was it even possible? Draco however, was staring at Harry as if he had grown an extra head, eyes wide, body as still as stone and his mouth firmly shut. He was lost for words, skin whiter than ever. He seemed horrified, but that must mean…  
  
No.  
  
“I’m a bloke,” Harry snapped, irritated at the way they were all messing with him. Or perhaps this was all some sort of cruel curse Draco had placed on him? No, he doubted even the son of Lucius Malfoy could muster such a convincing spell. “I can’t get pregnant – I – I never heard about magic or potions that could change that. And even if it were true, nothing has changed about me, I am still a man! I have a knob and everything!”  
  
Snape (aside from cringing at Harry’s slang term for ‘penis’) seemed unperturbed from Harry’s denial. “Nothing has changed externally – the potion someone must have slipped you, or mixed with another, perhaps, only changed you internally, you would not notice except for some intense pains during the change. Have you felt many of them lately?”  
  
Harry found his gaze flicking to the stunned Draco – who was still watching him. “I have them all the time,” he murmured, as if he did not want anyone to hear. His mind was spiralling. Men couldn’t get pregnant! “Why…why didn’t anyone tell me about this?!” He insisted, his voice raising.  
  
“T-This is a joke right? H-He can't be…?” Draco swallowed hard. “I…I don't want to be a father,” He added worriedly, but realised that that mattered very little. “You better not be fucking joking with me!” Draco warned the potion’s master. Narcissa turned away from his language with disgust.  
  
“Is this because of that time when you – you changed me?” Harry grimaced, remembering shamefully how he had acted then, clasping at any pleasure he could find. Snape and Narcissa looked around at Draco in an instant, waiting for yet another explanation.   
“I used polyjuice to make him into a girl to have sex with, so what?” Draco shrugged, trying to make light of it, since nothing he could do would rid his mother of that look right now.   
  
“I thought I knew you Draco, I honestly did.” Narcissa gave a dry sob. “And to have Harry so…so _complacent_ about it, as if – as if it’s _alright?! Normal_?!” Her disappointment cut him like a blade. And again, Draco frowned with that familiar wretchedness searing his innards. What if Harry really was pregnant? This whole time, he had been torturing him with his own child inside him – it was beyond sickening. Draco cringed at that sudden realization. What had he done?  
  
“I…I'm sorry…!” Draco gasped out, verging on the state of tears. He held his hand up to his face to cover his expression. What had he become? _Father would be so disappointed in you_ , an eerie, inner voice spat.  
  
Harry’s eyes widened at Draco’s reaction. If Draco was saying sorry, if he was this upset then…  
  
“No!” Harry yelled, reaching his arm out and summoning his wand to hand, before aiming it at the wardrobe. “ _Accio_ trousers!” He chanted, pulling on the trousers that shot out of the armoire hastily before getting to his feet, glaring at them all. “I’m a bloody man!!! Why did no one tell me a wizard can get pregnant?! I was forced into marrying a bloke, shouldn’t _someone_ have thought to tell me?!”  
  
“Well, we naturally assumed you knew, it is common knowledge that with potions or other such magical changes, male pregnancy is possible,” Snape replied, staring between him and Draco as if he wasn’t quite sure who was most vulnerable to a breakdown. “Given your muggle upbringing, perhaps that assumption was a mistake–”  
“You _think_?!” Harry spat, before rounding on Draco. “And you! You did this to me! You fucked me, you tortured me, and now this?!” Storming forwards, sent the side table beside the bed flying across the room, surprised at his own strength as he watched it crash into a dozen, jagged pieces. “I don’t… I’m a man! For heaven’s sake, you stripped everything else about me away, every shred of pride I had and this is what? The icing on the bloody cake?!”  
  
“Harry,” Narcissa began gently, “I do not think Draco was aware – look at him, he–”  
“It doesn’t matter!” Harry sneered, “He married a bloke and he should accept that instead of emasculating me at every turn! Did you know your precious son even calls me his _wife_? And now – he may not have done it intentionally, but it’s done, and as usual, who has to deal with the after-effects? Harry _bloody_ Potter – no _Malfoy_ , I do apologise!” The last bit came out as a revolted splutter of sarcasm, and Harry’s arms were rigid with fury at his sides.  
  
“Defeating Voldemort wasn’t enough; I still have to give more, more to make others happy instead of me! And now I have to give _this_!” He cringed at the thought, as the truth in Snape’s explanation hit him, hard, like a blow to the stomach. He felt sick again.   
  
“Harry,” Snape began, quietly carefully coming to his side. “You wanted a family one day, did you not? Do you not envy what your friends have? Surely this should be a blessing to you, not a tragedy. It’s a–”  
“A miracle, Harry, it really is,” Narcissa finished, pressing a hand to her silent son’s shoulders, as if to ground him from his misery. Harry snorted.  
  
“I’m glad you all think so,” he growled out, “I wanted one, but this isn’t a family – _he_ isn’t my husband. He’s my bloody jailer! The things he has done to me… I tried to make the best of a bad situation but I – I wouldn’t trust him near me again, much less a _baby_! Maybe if he gave a toss about me, if he cared at all it would be bearable – but he hates me, he has caused me nothing but pain since I signed my name over to him! Why in _hell_ would I want something of _his_ squirming inside of me?!”  
  
“Well I am going to say this for my son – as he simply won't do so himself – Draco does love you, Harry. I know he does, in his own way,” She tried, but apparently it wasn't good enough, and Harry merely scoffed at the notion.  
  
“Draco, aren't you going to say anything?” Snape pleaded, seeing Draco now spiralling into a state of shock and knowing he was the only one who could give Harry some kind of reassurance.   
  
Finally Draco raised his head to look Harry in the eyes and Harry seemed to stop, spying the glassy sheen to that silver gaze. Draco inhaled shakily. “I-I didn't mean to cause you pain… I just–”  
”You didn't mean to cause him pain, Draco? You tortured him,” Snape interjected coolly.  
”Just shut up!” Draco snapped at him, the professor whose good opinion mattered almost as much as his mother’s. Then, reining in his temper, he looked to Harry, who looked like he was ready to agree with Snape. “I don't – I don't hate you… _Harry_.”  
  
Harry stared at him, speechless. How could Draco _not_ hate him? After all of the things he had done, the way he had treated him since this began, it dictated nothing but the sheerest of loathing. True he had suspected that hate walked hand-in-hand with desire but…  
  
Shaking his head in silent confusion, Harry stooped slowly, to pick up one of his shirts from the side and pulled it on, still considering Draco’s words, still holding his gaze that had never looked more mournful. Not even in their sixth year, when all had gone horribly wrong for the slytherin. In the end, it was Narcissa Malfoy who broke the unbearable, heavy silence.  
  
“After… _everything_ , will the baby still be alright?” She asked sensibly, and Snape paused before nodding.  
“I scanned his body, all seems to be well despite the trauma – but we will have to see if there was any other damage as things…progress…”  
“And you naturally assume I will keep it?” Harry shot at him, tucking his wand into his trouser pocket. “I didn’t want this, everything about this has been forced upon me, even sex in the brutal most violent way – and you assume I’ll keep the result of it all? As what – a human embodiment of my suffering?”  
  
He saw Draco’s head shoot up higher, his entire body tensing at Harry’s words. The sudden change made Harry jump a little. Why did Malfoy seem… _disturbed_ by what he had said? He had said so himself, he didn’t want to be a father. Just because he didn’t _hate_ Harry surely wouldn’t change that?  
  
“You – you _can't_ kill it,” Draco said, sounding horrified. He may not have been ready to be a father, nor had he chosen to be one, but he knew that once in a situation, whether he liked it or not, there were consequences – _responsibilities_. Despite the torments he had exacted on Harry and his unbearable ways, one thing he was in firm belief of was it was unfair to just take life from something so innocent. Whether he had wanted it or not, whether it had been conceived in utmost bliss or in a back alley, there was no way to justify killing it.   
  
“I just don't think it's right to kill an innocent – to kill an unborn baby, regardless of how it was conceived, or what the circumstances are…”  
  
Again, Harry found himself startled at Draco’s change, was this the person he had but _glimpsed_ before? “Whatever your beliefs on abortion, it’s not you who has this _thing_ in them, is it? Maybe if it were you, you’d feel differently. If you gave a damn about me, then you’d have more consideration for what I want – what I feel!”  
  
“Don’t call the baby a _thing_ , Harry,” Narcissa corrected him gently before Draco could answer, but it fell on deaf ears.   
  
“It’s not for you to say what I can and won’t do with my own body,” Harry insisted, glaring at Draco darkly, before heading towards the door. He marched into the lounge area and heard Draco close behind him, heard Draco’s voice   
  
“It is _just as much_ my say when part of me is inside of you!” Draco yelled, frightening his mother with his raised voice but taking no notice in his pursuit after Harry. “Where are you going, you can't just _leave_?” Draco insisted, exasperated and lost between heartbreak, fury and self-loathing.   
  
“I cant be here right now,” Harry growled out, casting a glance at Draco over his shoulder as he threw open the door to their chambers, stepping through it, “I want to make a decision without you, without everyone screaming in my face of my _duty_ and my _responsibility_ for _this_ ,” He gestured to his stomach, a look of disgust crossing his features. “To hell with duty, I lost the first seventeen years of my life to my duty to kill Voldemort, then I lost the rest of it for my duty to marry _you_. I’m sick of my decisions being made for me!”  
  
With that he whirled around and shot down the hall, he didn’t know if Draco was following or not, he didn’t care, the wanker wouldn’t stop him. Taking the stairs as quickly as he could, Harry stepped into the grate in the main foyer, seizing a handful of floo powder as he did so. “The Burrow!” He called out, throwing the powder to the ground, and then, he was gone.  
  
  
“FUCK!” Draco yelled, throwing his fist into the nearest wall as Harry bolted from him. He quickened his step to follow him, but he was already out of sight.  
“Draco, wait!” Narcissa called out to him, holding the heavy weight of her dress up a little to descend the stairs hastily to his side. Snape followed at his own pace, watching the exchange carefully…  
  
“Draco please,” Narcissa began.   
“I have to go after him, what if he does something stupid?” Draco worried and though Narcissa realised she shouldn't have smiled at that, she couldn't help but feel for the first time, her son had some sort of emotion that wasn't detrimental to Harry’s health.  
“Maybe he needs space?” Narcissa suggested, “Draco…what you _did_ to him today–”   
“NO!” Draco argued, cutting her off as he rushed to the fireplace, grabbing a handful of floo powder. “The Burrow!” He cried to the emerald flames.  
  
* * *  
  
“Harry?!” Hermione’s voice sounded as Harry spiralled out of the grate, catching himself on the kitchen table instead of hurtling towards the ground as usual – sometimes he thought they had put the table there just for him…  
  
“Hermione,” he gasped, “I’m sorry, I know it’s a bit sudden, I just err…I needed to get away for a bit.”  
Hermione nodded, scanning his face before beckoning him in.  
“Come, I was about to put Hugo down for a nap but if you’re here I am sure he’ll be glad to see you,” she ushered him into the Weasley’s cosy little lounge, where Mr and Mrs Weasley were oddly absent (probably upstairs) and where Ron was fighting Hugo into a clean set of clothes. As soon as he stepped into the room, the boy crawled over to him, asking to be picked up with incoherent sounds. Harry froze for a moment – babies wasn’t really what he wanted to consider right now…  
  
“Harry, mate?” Ron prodded, getting up and sitting on the couch when Harry didn’t move, “You alright?”  
“Harry?” Hermione asked, when he remained silent, brushing past him to sit beside Ron, shaking him from his reverie.  
“Yeah,” he murmured, stopping to pick up the boy at his feet, bouncing him midair the way that made him giggle before settling into the armchair nearest the fire. “Sorry about suddenly dropping in…”  
“Nonsense,” Hermione bit out, but her eyes were too intently focused on him, and the way he just allowed Hugo to pull at the buttons on his shirt, without giving him much attention at all. It was so unlike him, even _Harry_ knew that but he just… _couldn’t_ …  
  
“What’s Malfoy done now?” Ron sighed, eyeing him critically, making Harry’s heart skip a beat. Would it be that obvious already? He glanced down to his stomach, which looked perfectly normal – in fact he was sure _he_ looked perfectly the same, albeit a little worn. His emerald gaze steeled. He had come here for a reason, because theirs were the only opinions he considered viable. They were the only ones who cared more about him than Malfoy and some accidental, magical mistake…  
  
He cringed at himself for thinking it. Was it cruel to want to have some control, to want a say in his life for once in all his twenty-one years? True, he had wanted a family, but he had given any ideas of that up when he signed _Harry Potter_ into _Harry Malfoy_. And what possible home life could he and _Draco_ offer it, if he kept it? Was he the only one that saw this situation _far too_ volatile for a baby?  
  
“Mate,” Ron prodded again, leaning forwards in his seat, folding his hands together and wringing them anxiously. “You’re scaring us, what’s he done?”  
“He got me pregnant,” Harry murmured simply, as if that was perfectly normal and acceptable – when it _wasn’t._  
Hermione remained complacent, silently scanning him while Ron’s jaw dropped – aghast.  
“But…How… How did this happen?” Ron gasped.  
Harry stared down to where Hugo was pulling a little harder on the pearly white buttons of his shirt, unmoved. It was as if his world was tumbling down around him, and all he could do was watch and allow others to tug him this way and that, to avoid the tumbling debris.  
“You have a son,” Harry answered distantly, “You know how it happens…”  
“That isn’t what I… With Draco _bloody_ Malfoy? What were–” But Ron’s words were cut short by a shadow flickering across the doorway, the appearance of Draco Malfoy silencing him briefly. In his chair, Harry looked up exhaustedly to where the blond stood and patted Hugo’s hand away gently as he tried to tug one of the buttons clean off.  
  
“Harry, _please_ …” Draco started, only this time calmer in the presence of his friends. “Just come outside and talk with me for a minute, and then you can…”   
  
But why should Harry do anything for him? Give him the satisfaction of knowing he wasn't going to do anything reckless? Why couldn't Draco be the one hanging for once? It was always about him. And how _he_ felt…   
  
“Harry? Outside?” Draco huffed, evidently out of breath from the small chase and the horrors that had been running through his head since his departure.  
  
“He isn’t going anywhere with you,” Ron snarled, leaping to his feet. “You’ve fucked him up enough to make him think this is normal? To make him think he wants _your_ kid?!”  
“Ron–”  
“No, Hermione,” Ron cut across her, his cheeks flushing as red as his hair with anger. “Does it look like Harry wants to go with him? No. Whatever you did to him, you took your sick games too far!”  
  
Harry tipped his head to the side slightly, wondering what Draco made of the sight of baby Hugo on his lap, but said nothing, he wasn’t ready to talk to Draco. He had wanted to make his mind up on his own…  
  
“Ron!” Hermione shouted then silencing her husband, “Don’t you see what is going on?” She prompted, getting up to pull Hugo off of Harry and into her arms, allowing her friend to get to his feet. “They _need_ to talk.”  
“We really don’t,” Harry replied, “There is nothing to talk about… This is my decision–”  
“As unfair as it is,” Hermione interjected, “The decision is _both_ of yours.”   
  
Harry ground his teeth together in frustration, his hands curling into tight fists before he barged past Malfoy, straight out into the garden. The afternoon was warm, given it being August still, and he didn’t even feel a chill as he stood there, staring out across the Weasley’s garden wall and the fields beyond. He could hear the gnomes russling in the bushes quietly, but paid them no attention as the back door closed and he felt Malfoy come to stand behind him. He remained silent, stiff, waiting for Malfoy to make the first move…  
  
Draco stood quietly in the country air, but a steps behind Harry, his eyes never moving from Harry’s back the entire time. And Harry never so much as glanced back at him. Slowly, Draco Malfoy inhaled through his clenched teeth. “So let's say I _do_ have this obsession with you. That I… _want_ you. What does that mean to you?”  
  
Though the question seemed peculiar and unconnected to the fact Harry thought he had taken him outside to talk babies, Draco had in fact just admitted a very important issue for himself in all of this. These feelings, feelings he had felt guilty and shamed over had been paining him for such a long time…  
  
“Well?” He prompted.  
  
Harry thought for a moment, stunned briefly by the sudden sincerity, yet again. Malfoy was obnoxious and selfish and cruel, he wasn’t like this…wasn’t human…  
  
“It means that you’re finally being honest,” Harry murmured, turning slowly to face him. What was Malfoy expecting in return for honesty? What was he trying to achieve? Harry found it hard to believe that the arse was changing just because of what he had found out. “It means that I am wondering that if now you can admit it, if you can live with me and talk to me without _torturing me_ the whole damn time! You can brand me but I am not your possession and you can make me fuck you but I’m not yours and I will _never_ be yours that way!”  
  
Those grey eyes were watching him, staring into him intensely, the warm sunlight reflecting within them. It seemed like Draco was actually listening, without interrupting, without smacking him – for once!  
  
“Did you think sewing your initial into my prick would make me _want_ you?”  
  
Draco marched over and grabbed Harry fiercely by the collar, his piercing eyes flashing as he glared into Harry’s for a moment, but not a moment long enough for Harry to speak. Crumbling under his desires, he brought his lips to Harry’s in a rough kiss.  
  
 _I never once dared to think I would have you the way I wished. So how could I allow myself to become weak, allow myself to become close to you? When all this time I’ve been raised to loathe your kind? Brave, foolhardy, scruffy Gryffindors that charge in and leave nothing untouched._ Not even his cold, brittle heart. He drew back slowly, a line of saliva connecting their lips, extending the kiss, before the trail broke.  
  
Draco’s hands slid from Harry’s collar and rolled over each of his shoulders tentatively, knowing Harry could and _would_ swat him away at any moment. Still, there were important things to be said before he tore away again. “I…I don't have all the answers to fix this, but please, don't kill our unborn child because of me.”  
  
Harry felt his breath catch in his chest, tight and uncomfortable – unbearable. He didn’t like Draco like this; he didn’t know how to react to him like this. He was unprepared. He couldn’t help but cringe also, at the sound of _“our child”_ coming from Draco’s lips. He so wasn’t ready for this…  
  
This was so wrong.  
  
“And if – _if_ I keep it, there’ll be no pureblood anti-muggle crap engrained into it’s head!” Harry insisted, his voice harsh, as if ready for Draco to argue, but the blond said nothing. So he pressed on, pushing to find the line where Draco would disagree, or show him his true colours, show him the arrogance Harry knew to be lying there dormant. “And you’ll never, ever hurt me again like you did today, or this… _baby_ , do you hear?” He glared, hating how much of a struggle it was to use the word _‘baby’_. “I’m not going to suffer through this, and give you what you want just for you to torture this thing the way you did me!”  
  
“I wouldn't do that, that’s just…” Funny how he seemed cleary disturbed at the accusation that he would hurt his own child when he had battered his own husband easily enough. “I couldn't – I wouldn't!” He shook his head frantically. Almost sick at the idea of hurting something so innocent. Something of his and Harry’s.  
  
“I am sorry.”  
  
Harry stood there surveying him thoughtfully. He had been hoping, somewhere deep down, that Draco would refuse so that he could deny Draco and get rid of the baby without need for guilt and that was wrong, but he couldn’t help it. And now where was he left to turn? A long, exhausted sigh left his lips. He felt awkward at Draco’s sincerity, it made everything seem more… _intimate_ , and he hadn’t been prepared for that.   
  
“Fine then,” he murmured, voice devoid of emotion. “I’ll…I’ll keep it…”  
  
Draco raised his head then and pulled Harry close to him, despite the way Harry’s body tensed at the contact. He wasn't sure why but he wanted to hold him, even when he was pulling away. But when Harry’s struggles intensified, he hurriedly released him.  
  
“T-Thank you!” He said at last, stepping back. “I will – err, leave you to your thoughts now.” Draco knew Harry needed the space and he had to give it to him. He deserved that much and more. “Just don't….be… I mean, come home to me?” He asked, in the most sincere and genuine voice Harry had ever heard.  
  
Harry just nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets awkwardly. How _did_ you respond to someone after they had done what _he_ had done and were now asking for the most precious, fragile thing that could be given? Harry closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. “I’ll be home soon,” he promised quietly, “Go home, I’ll be back soon…”  
  
He flicked his eyes up to Draco, briefly holding them there, the way Draco had briefly embraced him, before turning and heading back into the house. He felt Draco follow. But once he escaped the kitchen to rejoin Ron and Hermione, the flare of the fireplace, of Draco returning to Malfoy Manor was all too audible and he had time to think again…about everything Draco had just done and said.  
  
* * *  
  
With a sudden green flare of flames Draco arrived back at the Manor. To his surprise, his father was sitting on the decorative loveseat sitting in the main hallway. Dusting himself off quickly, he cautiously approached the older Malfoy. “Father?” He asked impassively. “Why are you in my part of the manor?”  
  
“Naturally your mother has told me of, well _Harry_ ,” He replied quietly, tapping his cane on the floor and getting to his feet to stand over his son. “I cannot say I am pleased with this, not one little bit.”  
  
Draco growled under his breath. “That's not really your decision, is it Father?” At that, Lucius spanned the gap between them and pressed the head of his can into his son’s shoulder. Those eyes narrowed darkly. “It is my business when I do not like it, Draco. Would you like me to remind you of what happens when you go against my wishes…?” His voice trailed off and Draco’s body tensed at the evil promise in that voice. Sweat formed over his brow as Lucius stepped a little closer, the hard, unyielding head of the can bruising his shoulder.  
  
“Of course you wouldn’t,” Lucius purred forebodingly, pulling his cane back slowly, but keeping it up in his hand, poised like claws ready to strike at any moment. But he did not. “I suppose…these things cannot be _un_ done, if anything a Malfoy must learn to make the best of whatever they are dealt.” Lucius reached up, patting down the few blond strands the night air had displaced. Perfecting his son’s appearance before anything else, always…  
  
“We will bring this to the media before they find out, that husband of yours and yourself _will_ make a public appearance, together, somewhere where you are sure to be seen as the _happy couple_ that is required to advance the Malfoy family’s name in the ministry again. Your mere _union_ has already given us great advantage…” He studied the boy’s face, hard, as if trying to detect a flaw in his son’s visage. He could find none. “You will print an announcement of it, whether your husband agrees or not, is that clear?”   
  
“Yes, Father,” Draco answered simply, losing the will to argue with him. He didn't like confrontation at the best of times, especially with his father. “May I be dismissed from this conversation now?” Draco asked carefully. With everything that had been going on, he swore his head was beginning to swell. He was so desperate to just get up to his room, take a painkiller and plummet into the duvet. He really needed to rest, to think. To think about how he could even begin to fix what he had done…  
  
* * *  
  
“So…you’re…keeping it?” Ron asked, echoing his declaration. His face was contorted with confusion, no disbelief, whilst Hermione glared at him. She, perhaps, was more sensitive to the subject. “Have you gone barmy? The _creep_ pierced you and ripped one out! He…well he _raped_ you!”  
Harry cringed at the way it painted him as the damsel in distress.  
“That isn’t the baby’s fault, Ron,” Hermione interjected, scowling at him. “And in any case, whoever the father – _other father_ ­is, it’s Harry’s too. You know how badly Harry wanted a family before this, how could he kill something so–”  
“He asked me to keep it,” Harry murmured quietly, cutting her off. “He…pleaded me, as much as a Malfoy can plead – and he was right, I suppose, whatever he has done, I can’t kill it…”  
Hermione cast a look at Ron, a worried look crossing her features. “But Harry… Don’t you…don’t you want it? At all?”  
Harry shrugged. “I’m not sure. I hadn’t made my mind up before he stormed in and begged me not to kill it...”  
  
“Shocking to think he gives two shits about a child when he was quite content on making your life a living hell,” Ron began and Hermione cut across him again.  
“Ronald! Watch your tongue around Hugo would you? Nevertheless,” She paused for some consideration. “It does seem very unlike him, I would have thought he wouldn't want his perfect, pureblood lineage mixed with anything less…”  
  
They both looked to Harry uneasily and waited for a response. He looked quite pale all of a sudden.  
  
“H-Harry, you alright?”  
  
“Y-Yeah,” Harry managed out, swatting away her assistance when her hands shot forwards to him. “My… I feel a bit…queasy…” He saw their stares, evidently knowing his habit of sweeping his suffering under the rug too well. “Honestly!”  
  
Hermione raised a brow, still doubting him probably.   
  
“Well I suppose the parentage could be _worse_ , Harry,” Ron grumbled. “There could have been a worse father – _other father_ ,” he amended. “It could have been Voldemort.”   
Harry snorted, guessing that was Ron’s idea of cheering him up. “Thanks for putting things in perspective, Ron,” he murmured, hand rubbing his roiling stomach in slow circles. He definitely felt sick… Maybe it was from all the blood loss? A shuddery aftereffect from Malfoy’s torture earlier?  
  
“Perhaps it is morning sickness?” Hermione suggested, leaning over him and rubbing his back slowly, “It can come at any time of the day you know. But most women – _parents_ don’t get it right away, you’ll have to find out how far along you are.”  
Harry nodded, really not wanting to hear all of this right now. The affect of Malfoy’s torture earlier had already sickened him to his stomach, and he kept subtly rubbing his cock every now and then to assure himself that it was over. The pain had been…so immense! And then the news of what was really wrong with him, on top of drinking more than he had _ever_ drunk in his life and then having sex until the early hours…  
  
 _Oh Merlin_ , he thought, as his stomach gave an unfortunate lurch, he was going to vomit. His face felt cold and burning hot at the same time and his limbs felt shaky. _I_ drank alcohol _while I was pregnant, such a bad ‘mother,_ ’ he thought bitterly. That was the problem though. He didn’t know whether it was because of who the father was, or what the father, the whole _family_ had done to him, (aside from Narcissa) or whether it was the shock of being a man, and pregnant, but he felt… _bitter_ and wrong about the whole thing. Didn’t mothers feel happy? At all? Especially ones that had _wanted_ a proper family since they were young? He raised his head, as if considering asking Hermione, but then he bit his tongue, unable to force the words out.  
  
“Maybe you should lay down?” Hermione suggested, but Ron only continued to worsen the situation by reminding him that his _husband_ wanted him home.   
“You can't be late, you know he won't like that,” Ron spat.   
“Ronald, that's enough, really, I didn't marry a half wit! Now shut it!”  
“Half wit?” Ron protested, “That's it, I'm taking Hugo up for his nap,” Ron said, plucking up his son and storming out of the room.  
  
“Ahh, finally some peace. Now Harry, let’s get you to the couch?” She knew deep down she would have to get him home and it was getting later and later, Harry had been here for a while now. She just couldn't bear to see him in any more pain. “You need to rest.”  
  
“Ron’s right,” Harry grumbled, his voice lacking the emotion that had so often gotten him into trouble before now. “I promised I’d be getting home – if I’m late he might think I’ve gone and flushed the thing…”  
“Harry,” Hermione said, her voice mildly reprimanding, but sympathetically so. It was something only a woman could do he was sure. “You just seem… Is this really what you want?”  
  
Harry didn’t answer at first, lying back on the couch slightly as the nausea bubbled in his gut like an over brewed potion. “Does it really matter what I want?” He murmured, “My whole life has always been about what everyone else needed, not me. Malfoy doesn’t even give a shit about what it might do to me, he never even asked Snape what the danger levels were or… I bet that’d be the perfect scenario for him – he gets nine more months of fun with me, of torturing me and then I die. He’ll get me out of his hair and he still gets the…the baby then… He seems to want it, oddly enough.” He could tell the casualness to his voice was what made Hermione cringe and he could have kicked himself for wallowing in such self-pity, but it was how he felt.   
  
“Oh, Harry,” Hermione gasped sympathetically. She wasn't really sure what she was supposed to say. She just wished there was someway Harry didn't have to be in this situation, but there was no point depressing him further by saying that when she knew nothing could change. “Come on then, you had better go,” She said with a weak smile, placing her hand on his shoulder. “It will be alright, Harry and if you ever need us, well…you know where we are.”  
  
Harry nodded dejectedly, walking back to the kitchen and into the fireplace. A handful of powder later and the flames hurled him back to his prison.  
  
Harry gasped for breath as he spiralled out of the fireplace on the other side. He didn’t think he could ever make the journey eloquently, he was still as clumsy as he had been at twelve when he had first used floo powder. Raising his wand to banish the dust, Harry had only just stowed it away and approached the stairs before a subtle _‘pop’_ alerted him to the arrival of a house elf.   
  
“Master Harry, Sir!” Eric the house elf declared, bowing as low as ever, so that the greyish creature’s pointed nose touched the floor. “Mistress Narcissa is giving me orders to make you eat once you get in, Sir!”  
Harry frowned a little. Narcissa had given the orders, not Draco. “I’m not very hungry, Eric,” he assured him, beginning to walk up the stairs, unfortunately, the elf followed.  
“Master Harry, Sir, you has not eaten today, Master needs his strength for the baby, Sir!”  
His teeth ground into his gums painfully. “The Weasleys fed me,” he lied, continuing up the extravagant, curved staircase and rounding the landing to head towards his and Draco’s wing. But with another _‘pop’_ the elf appeared before him again, it’s arms crossed in front of its chest.  
  
“Master Harry is lying, Sir,” Eric squeaked, “Eric will be punished if Master Harry does not eat – it is being my orders, Sir!”  
“Send it to my room,” Harry bit out, moving past the elf with determination to reach his room this time. “I’ll eat it later.” That seemed to be good enough for the elf, who promptly disappeared, but Harry had no intention of eating when it felt like his stomach was wringing itself out in preparation for more vomiting.  
  
Pushing the door open, Harry saw the food had already been set on the table – magic was fast. The fire was still blazing and that made Harry shudder a little to look at, given what had happened only that morning just there, right there on the floor. But there was no sign of Draco. Harry shrugged, throwing his jacket carelessly over the back of the couch before pushing open the bedroom door. He froze there a moment, the blond on the bed turning to face him as he entered. He didn’t really know what to say…  
  
“Harry?” Draco acknowledged, sitting up on the bed. Harry didn't say anything in response, just glared, even when Draco slipped out of the covers naked and gestured to the open bathroom door. Harry’s brow crinkled in confusion then at the sight and luscious smell of steam rolling in from the bathroom.  
  
“Thought you might want a bath?” Draco offered, alarming Harry with his sudden chivalry. Harry remained where he was, however, a look of distrust clouding his eyes and Draco sighed, rolling over to dip his hand in his beside-drawer, his back to Harry. “Well, it's there if you want it,” He said, even though Harry seemed determined to remain quiet.  
  
Slowly Draco pulled a small picture out of the drawer and leant back into the pillow, gazing thoughtfully over the small cutting, which seemed like part of a newspaper, Harry thought.   
  
“This is the first picture I stored of you,” Draco said simply.  
  
Harry shuddered a little at that last sentence, it seemed all too…obsessive, and a little creepy. He still didn’t know quite to what extent this obsession for him was. He made his way across the room to the end of the bed at last, pulling off his shirt and trousers, so he was standing there in his boxers. He could not help but notice the way Draco’s eyes flicked up to him slightly at his stripping. Draco wouldn’t try and have sex with him tonight would he? Surely not after this morning and… But he could never tell what to expect, after all, he hadn’t expected _this._  
  
“You stored pictures of me?” Harry asked at last, breaking his vow of silence. “The Prophet has printed hundreds of them, maybe even more since I started Hogwarts, you must have a lot of space to store them all.” Draco glanced at him, but then back to the photograph and said nothing. Whilst pulling on his maroon pyjamas, Harry raised a brow, wondering what picture Draco was staring at exactly, he had never considered himself particularly photogenic after all. Moving over to the side-table, he set his wand on it, before looking over to Draco again, the blond seemed deep in thought.  
  
“You’re…different, tonight,” Harry said quietly, not sitting on the bed just yet, not sure if he could. “What are you thinking about?”  
  
Draco placed the photograph face down on the side and sank back into the pillow, turning over to face Harry. “I-It doesn't matter, shouldn't you eat or something?” He suggested. Trying to shift lure the conversation elsewhere. He looked up then at Harry in those pyjamas, surveying every curve that shone though the thin material.   
  
“I didn't think that maroon was your color?” Draco wasn't even sure why he had said that and he instantly felt stupid in doing so. You couldn’t just make light conversation with someone you had tortured that morning. He wasn't sure _what_ to say to Harry, but he imagined a conversation about the colour of his nightwear, wasn't at the top of his agenda. He wasn’t even sure how Harry could be in the same _room_ as him…  
  
Harry looked down at his pyjamas, buttoning up his shirt a little more. “I’ve never really been one for clothes shopping, I lived off of my cousin’s hand-me-downs since my parents died, anything else was given to me by the Weasleys or Hermione. I don’t really see the point in wasting money on lots of clothes,” He could instantly tell Draco disagreed, with all his pureblood, pedigree perfection. “I have a few dress robes for special occasions, and some casual ones, but other than that, not much.” He was eyeing the blond carefully, he had wanted to change the subject quite badly for some reason.  
  
“And I’m not hungry, thanks, the elf has already cornered me on that tonight. I feel a bit queasy anyway.”  
  
Draco sat up a little straighter then, obviously about to say something to that. But before he spoke, Harry caught a glimpse of the picture of his younger self, a clipping from the Prophet, it seemed, his magical photo smiling awkwardly beside Gilderoy Lockhart in Flourish and Blotts. _That day at the book signing just before Second Year_ , he realised, remembering Draco’s biting words against his unwanted fame back then. Suddenly even more uncomfortable, Harry made his way back across the room to needlessly fold his discarded clothes and set them on the trunk at the bottom of the bed. But Draco was watching him all the while – as he always had, Harry supposed.  
  
“You should probably not sleep on an empty stomach, even if you just eat a little bit,” Draco suggested. He flicked his wand at the door and watched the silver tray carry the food in, settling on the bed before him. “Come on?” He tried.   
  
This was all so weird, Draco didn't think he was going to feed him, did he?   
  
A few short minutes passed and Draco sighed as Harry continued to ignore him. “Fine then,” He hissed, rolling back over onto his side. “Have it you're way…” This all felt so awkward, his every effort was being thwarted and yet, did he _really_ have a right to expect anything more than this? Considering what he had done? “Look I…”  
  
“You?” Harry prompted, but the blond did not answer. _Probably pissed off that I’m not feeding his precious spawn,_ Harry thought bitterly, moving over to the plate, seizing a sandwich and eating it grudgingly. He didn’t know if he wanted it yet, but he supposed he was keeping it either way, so he couldn’t starve it. Finding it much easier to move with Draco’s back turned, Harry forced a few more sandwiches down into his unsettled stomach, even struggling with a sip of tea before eventually giving up.  
  
“I ate, are you happy now? No nutritionally deficient mini-Malfoys,” he grumbled, not able to help but noticing that Draco hadn’t mentioned it (the baby) since he’d got in. _He’s only talked about me, and avoided anything else,_ Harry realised, finding it all very strange. Was this because Draco felt guilty for earlier? Or for something else?  
  
“No, I'm not happy, you can't just eat because you want me to stop nagging you, you have to eat to keep healthy and because you want to…” He started, rolling back over to see him. He reached forward and placed his hand over Harry’s shoulder attempting to show a smile, but only frowning instead. “About the baby, do you really not want it?”  
  
Harry shrugged, the motion causing Draco’s hand to fall off his shoulder. He was a little awkward with how Draco touched him so casually, it only reminded him that he had every right to and Harry didn’t really have a choice at all, as usual. “I don’t know what I want,” Harry replied faintly, feeling quite ashamed of the way he was acting. But could Draco honestly not see the negative affects on him, Harry? Maybe he simply didn’t care enough to consider them. “I really don’t, I just…I can’t be happy about it when there are so many…bad sides to it.”   
  
The look in Malfoy’s eyes just then, it shamed Harry in a way he would have never expected. He wanted to be happy but he really just couldn’t… He needed to know certain things, needed to be sure, and even then…could he ever trust Malfoy? The all-too vivid memory of this morning was a vicious reminder that he couldn’t.  
  
“I’m just tired,” he sighed, getting up again and crossing the room restlessly, “And I’m sore, I just don’t know right now…”   
  
“Well you have to know that I won't let you kill it, no matter what,” Draco said abruptly. “I just can't let you do that no matter how much you don't want it, and I – I have something to offer you in return…”  
  
Harry suddenly looked a little intrigued, but shrugged it off as with impassiveness, sipping some more lukewarm tea to have an excuse to divert his gaze.  
  
“Something to offer you in return for our baby, my baby,” Draco corrected himself, since Harry didn't seem to want any claim to it. “If you want to leave here, I'll…I'll make you a separate part of the manor. You can do whatever you want, it will be like you're not even with me and you can have your own life.” Draco must have really had a reason to want to keep this baby if he was willing to let Harry go over it. What was going on here? And as genuine as his offer seemed, he had forgotton there, the binding magical contract, even with that offer, it would still stand. They could be no divorce. Harry would always be tied to him. However, the chance at _any_ freedom was extremely tempting.  
  
Harry frowned at that, confused. Draco had been obsessed with him since he was eleven and now he had him, owned him, now he was having his baby, would that not have been everything Draco could have wanted? It just seemed so unlikely that he would give it all up, he could keep him and the baby and Harry couldn’t stop him, so why was he giving him up, just to make him comfortable? Or was he simply lying? He was so confused and tired and aching. Draco was selfish and possessive, yet he was choosing between them? Or was he?  
  
“I can never even so much as kiss someone else besides you,” Harry murmured, “Our marriage is unbreakable, an unbreakable vow. I can never fall in love or have a proper family…” His voice trailed off, pain crossing his features, emotional pain. He couldn’t have any of those things, but he could escape Draco’s constant gaze and his torture, he could see the Weasleys and work as he pleased. Although he found it hard to believe Lucius Malfoy would permit him and Draco to do anything that would disadvantage the Malfoy name…  
  
“I’ll stay here, as we are, until it’s born,” Harry murmured, daring to believe what Malfoy offered was the truth, because that is all he could do, was hope. “Then I’ll go, if you’ll let me.” He searched those grey eyes, for any hint of a lie but instead saw something he could only identify as sadness, or something very, very similar. Maybe he should get Draco to make an unbreakable vow that he would treat the baby right? Could Draco be trusted with a child after… _everything?_  
  
“If it… _the baby_ asks, don’t…don’t tell it that I didn’t want it,” Harry added, a stab of distant pain pricking his chest at the memory of how unwanted he had been by the Dursleys. “I spent my whole childhood not being wanted; I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. You seem to love it, somehow already, so just…don’t tell it that, alright?”  
  
“I won't use you for sex and I won't ever force you into anything you don't want. It won't even be like we know one and other and as for the baby I won't even tell it anything about you, if thats what you want? The Manor is big enough that we’d never see each other. So…we have a deal?” Draco said at last, his voice croaky as he choked on that last part. The one thing he’d ever wanted and he’d finally got after waiting for so long, he was about to deal away.   
  
And he couldn't help but feel slighty emotional that all his hopes for Harry Potter ever falling for him were well and truly hopeless, and it was all his fault. _He will never want me,_ Draco thought bitterly. But perhaps he could try to forget with a future with his child laying ahead of him?  
  
“So, do we?” Draco asked again, gesturing out his hand as if to shake on it. He was so desperate for that hand shake, he had to secure that baby’s future no matter what.  
  
Harry considered that outstretched hand for a moment, remembering all-too well the first and only other time it had been offered, and he had refused. He wondered briefly, how damaged Malfoy had been by that refusal. With an exhausted sigh, Harry slid his hand into Draco’s, a strange sensation tickling his fingers as he did so. He could remember what those fingers did to him that morning…  
  
“We have a deal,” he murmured, guilt and wretchedness pricking his chest at the heartache in those eyes. He definitely didn’t like Malfoy when he was acting like this, like he had feelings Harry had all the power in the world to crush.  
  
“Thank you,” Draco gasped out, dropping back into the sheets. It was unsettling feeling satisfied and heart-broken at the same time. He had got what he wanted, so why the sudden sensation of loss? _I really am going to have to give him up this time_. Draco sank back into the pillow slowly and closed his eyes, he was well aware that Harry was probably scrutinising him, and that was unnerving in itself.   
  
“Maybe you should sleep now too, it's late,” Draco suggested, even with the bath still full and warm and steaming in the other room. He’d put all of that foamy relaxant and a half a bottle of soothing balm in the water to help Harry feel better, but it looked as if it would be wasted now. _He probably thinks you’ll scald or drown him in it,_ Draco thought wretchedly.   
  
Harry considered him thoughtfully for a moment. Were it not for what he had suffered that morning, he might have been more selfless, more grown up about this, might have never taken the offer and simply gone along with this. But as it was, he was still angry and aching and distrustful and now he was left with the bitter taste of guilt in his throat at what he had just agreed to. Hermione would have something to say once she found out of _that_ he was sure…  
  
“I might have that bath now, actually,” Harry said, noticing that Draco at least seemed pleased that all his efforts weren’t being snubbed. Getting up and heading into the bathroom, not bothering to close the door. He had to stop as he saw the bath, drawn with bubbles and with a smell coming from it that made the tenseness of his spine smooth out. Pulling off his pyjamas and dropping them over the towel-rail gracelessly, he set his glasses on the side of the sunken tub before slowly sliding in.   
  
Despite himself, a low groan of relief tore from his lips as the hot water sloshed against his skin. He ran his finger over the nipple Draco had torn earlier, hissing a little. It was healed, but still sore, like his cock.   
  
Draco gazed glassy-eyed into the light that streamed in from the bathroom, just staring. He was glad that Harry chose that very moment to take a bath because tears had burst from his lashes, running silently down his cheeks. Draco buried his face into the pillow and allowed the material to soak up the tears. _Pathetic little fool,_ his mind spat in an eerily familiar voice, _Malfoys do not cry!_ He brought his hand up to his head, which ached unbearably. He needed a headache potion. Getting to his feet clumsily, he stumbled to the bathroom, causing Harry to jump and whirl around to glare at him accusingly.  
  
“Don't fret, I’m not going to jump you, I just need this,” Draco said, indicating the bottle of pain-killing potion he’d pulled from the bathroom cabinet before swigging back two mouthfuls.   
  
“Have you been crying?” Harry asked with wide eyes, noting how red his eyes were.  
“No,” Draco answered simply, rushing from the bathroom and closing the door behind him. Though it was more to cut off any further questioning than to give Harry privacy.  
  
In truth, Harry had been expecting Draco to want to join him and it felt slightly odd that he hadn’t so much as _looked_ at him. He slumped into the water up to his chin for some time, mulling things over. The heat was nice and banished all of his aches, the subtle sting across his nipple and his member the only thing that remained. He did feel relieved from the tension though, maybe he’d even sleep tonight…  
  
When his fingers started to prune, he climbed out of the tub and wrapping a towel around himself he moved over to the sink. Picking up the bottle of potion, he considered it, before taking two swigs. _Maybe I should have just told him I wanted it,_ he thought, his stomach wasn’t churning with sickness now but with disgust, of himself. Setting the bottle back down, he towel-dried himself roughly and pulled back on his pyjamas before moving back into the bedroom. Closing the door behind him, he waited on the threshold for a second, seeing if Draco would turn on the bed to face him, he didn’t.  
  
Harry sighed moving across to the bed and sitting down on the side, without making any effort to lie down or slide under the blankets. Not yet, not while things felt so…strained. “Are your parents as pleased about this as you?” Harry asked, making conversation.   
  
Draco’s eyes widened at that question. And he felt a stab of resentment in his chest. “Not really,” He answered, but failed to elaborate. He sank deeper into the pillows, his head spinning with the countless thoughts that came with that question. Reaching over he switched off the side lamp. “You should sleep now,” He reminded Harry, trying anything to divert from the topic.   
  
“Your mother seemed fine, so I take it that Lucius is opposed to having a grandchild that’s got my filthy mixed blood in it?” Of course, he should’ve thought of that at first. Turning properly on the bed to look over Draco, who lay with his back to him, it was hard to miss. He’d made all these sacrifices to make sure Harry kept it, but Lucius had probably expressed his distaste for the entire affair. “But…it’s still yours too,” he reasoned, knowing the answer to his previous question without Draco answering it. “It shouldn’t matter who or what I am – it’ll be half yours.”  
  
“Just shut up,” Draco started, “It's _nothing_ to do with my father! I don't care what he thinks… It's not his choice anyway!” Draco spat. Harry edged away from his rising voice and Draco forcibly calmed himself at the sight. “I just…don't want to talk about this again tonight,” He insisted, turning his cautious gaze on Harry. “I do want this baby, more than… We… We will visit St. Mungo’s tomorrow and see how far along you are?”  
  
“Yeah, Okay,” Harry agreed, slightly shaken from the sudden rage. Lucius was a touchy subject with him. “We’ll go and ask all the questions and…stuff.” The idea and his willingness seemed to smooth out Draco’s mood, the tension fading from those shoulders a little. Catching his lip between his teeth, he leant forward slightly, unthinkingly setting his hand on Draco’s shoulder. Why did he feel that Draco needed to be comforted more than him now? Why did he even care?  
  
“Is there something I can do for you?” Something else, besides this baby, he meant.   
  
Draco jumped as Harry’s hand rested against his tense muscles, a sigh shuddering through his teeth. Turning over slowly to face him more fully, he chewed the inside of his lip awkwardly, thoughtful for a moment. Before knotting his fingers in the front of Harry’s nightshirt and guiding him closer. He felt Harry tense at the action and halted his movement, but did not release him.   
  
“Kiss me,” He said, seeing Harry’s eyes widen at the statement. Though Draco’s gaze remained the same, genuine almost. This wasn't like before, but he still felt uneasy. He couldn’t trust Draco not to change on him again. “Kiss me?” He said again, more of a request, a plead this time, his intense eyes smouldering as his fingers tensed on their grip of Harry’s collar.  
  
Harry felt his breath catch in his throat, before his eyes slid shut and he pressed down into Draco’s mouth. Those fingers clenched his collar still and he mouthed Draco’s lips tenderly for a few moments, but when he drew back a pale arm hooked the back of his neck, dragging him back to now parted, gasping lips.  
  
He felt Draco panting into his mouth, tongue sweeping over his with needy hunger. Leaning down, further, he felt Draco’s body surge up into his almost grateful for this. Harry was hard-pushed to refuse him such a comfort. He hadn’t enjoyed the harsher of Draco’s torments but the softer, subtler attentions; they weren’t necessarily all bad…   
  
_Fucked up,_ that voice that sounded like Ron spat. _You’re well and truly fucked up._  
  
The tiniest globule of moisture trickled from Draco’s eyes as he pulled Harry close, feeling him tense warily in his arms. This moment with Harry wouldn't last and he could not help but lose himself then, forget everything else just for this moment. Even, if it wasn't forever. Even if it was his fault it would never be anything more than dubious consent.  
  
He swished his tongue around inside, battling with Harry’s, but softly. He rolled his tongue around Harry’s with ease and that treacherous wetness gathered more fully on his lashes. Slowly, lost in the moment, he reached down, pressing his palm against Harry’s pyjama bottoms. Harry winced, flinching away a little when his hand finally brushed over his member.  
  
Harry pulled back from the kiss slightly. “I…I’m not ready for you to touch me that way,” he murmured, feeling instantly foolish. It wasn’t that it hurt too much – not when Draco was being this gentle anyway – it was more that he didn’t trust him to stay gentle. But Draco ignored him, pressing his mouth up to bite his lip softly, tearing a small moan from Harry before crashing their lips together again.  
  
He rolled his so that Harry was slightly under him, his hand palming the shape of Harry’s inevitable erection until he gasped unwittingly into his mouth.  
  
“I-I promise to be gentle,” Draco whispered, backing slowly away from Harry and sliding down underneath the covers. There was nothing he could offer that Harry wanted, nothing he could give him in recompense – except this. No one had ever touched Harry like this, he could give him this. This would make Harry happy, for a little while, surely? Harry didn’t want flowers or presents, probably didn’t want this either other than the most basic sense, but Draco could make him feel good, make him feel needed. Harry would like that, wouldn’t he?  
  
Harry looked down under the covers at him, still unsure, uneasy, his hands tensed on Draco’s arms, ready to wrench him away.   
  
“Please?” Draco breathed, tugging Harry’s pyjama bottoms down to his knees. He exhaled shakily then, determined to show contrition as he leant in to rub his face slowly against Harry’s member. It looked as it always did after the bath, but a little pinker and limp against Harry’s hairless pubic bone, he was sure he wouldn’t be too sensitive to enjoy it. His cheek remained against the heated, swelling shaft, brushing tenderly against his prick through the thin layer of his briefs.  
  
“Y-You don’t have to!” Harry insisted, but as he reached down Malfoy pushed his hands away patiently, holding his gaze as he allowed his breath to steam over it. Harry wriggled, slightly awkward and distrusting. Malfoy seemed different, but then, he had seemed different last night too…and then this?  
  
His flimsy undies were tugged down as well, clean off his legs along with his bottoms now and blood rushed to his cock regardless of the potential danger. It throbbed eagerly under Draco’s chin, silently begging. Harry swore he saw Draco smile before lowering his mouth, running his tongue up along the still tender skin on the underside. He jerked at that gentle teasing, his fingers knotting in the sheets. It was so sensitive!  
  
“Let me?” Draco hissed carefully, licking back down the centre of the organ with slick care. The saliva coated the swollen flesh, making it glisten as he drew back to look at it, the pink head peeping out of the foreskin. He moved his head to the top then, wrapping his lips around the crown and sucking gently. Harry’s hips wriggled madly beneath him, he was still tense, still debating on whether to shove him away or not Draco could tell.  
  
That curtain of platinum blond hair tickled Harry’s stomach when he tenderly sucked a little more of Harry’s penis into his mouth. Moving his head around in circles as he swallowed the first few inches like his favourite dessert. “Hmm…”  
  
“S-Stop…making…those…noises!” Harry murmured, gripping the sheets until his knuckles turned white as he struggled not to reach down and push Malfoy away – or pull him closer, he never could trust his own senses when he was aroused, sometimes he cursed being a man. Draco, of course, smirked around his cock and hummed purposefully sending sweet vibrations up through his thick erection.   
  
Harry pressed his head back into the sheets, his teeth grinding together in determination to remain quiet. This was all because Draco asked for it, (with those eyes that said he might break if he refused) not because he wanted it. It wasn’t! But then he felt Draco’s finger circle his cleft with purely teasing flicks, making his denial tremble and threaten to break.  
  
The hand not knotted in the sheets wrapped subtly around his wand, it was right there, in his hand if Draco turned. He saw those grey eyes flick up to him briefly (mouth still full) to see the weapon in Harry’s hand, but he either felt it fairplay or could care less, since he only hummed more determindedly around his hot shaft.  
  
“Hmm, I think your cock likes me again?” Draco joked.   
“Pushing your luck, Malfoy,” Harry growled, menacingly but Draco merley blinked in reaction, continuing where he’d left off.  
  
He took the full length deep into his mouth and slowly held it there, the head pressing against his throat, the salty taste of pre-emission touching his tongue. He swore he felt the shaft _quivering_ and Harry’s head flew back into the pillow, his hips arching up into his lips instinctively. Knowing what it did to him, he caught Harry’s eyes, still seeing reluctance there and sniffed the end of Harry’s penis as he drew back, the licked lightly. Harry’s body moved uncontrollably at the subtle movement and he glared when Draco spoke again.   
  
“Your cock wants me.”  
  
“S-Shut up!” He hissed, furious that Draco would be so bold after what he had done – and he most definitely did not feel his prick dribble at the sound of his verbal teasing. But his cock was the real traitor, it seemed like it had forgiven him and _more. Bastard,_ he thought, just as the very tip of a finger pressed into his entrance. Harry stiffened then. He knew Malfoy would want sex! “I – I can’t do that – I don’t want to have sex!” But Draco merely leant down, spitting onto his finger to lubricate the final stroke inside.  
  
Harry gasped as the finger curled, the blunt edge of the knuckle kneading one side of his slick channel whilst the fingertip massaged his prostate generously. He closed his eyes then, those lips mouthing his cock suggestively.  
  
Draco swiftly found himself lost, hazy-eyed in a fog of lust. He just couldn't help himself, whenever he touched Harry, he had to have more, like a need for him, burning hotter every second. It wasn't just an obsession, it was a bone-deep hunger. And he just couldn't stop.   
  
“I said I’d be gentle, didn't I?” He reminded, slowly pulling that single finger in and out of him with ease. But Harry didn't seem to show any emotion of wanting it, even as his insides clenched around him, disagreeing with Harry’s reserve. Draco took that cock slowly back into his mouth then and slowly sucked it in with shallow downward thrusts. “You want me to make you cum just with my mouth then?” He asked huskily.  
  
Harry eyed him with disbelief. Draco had stopped when he said no? His eyes glistened with lustful confusion. But he nodded anyway, not able to turn down the offer, not when Draco seemed to be keeping his promise of being gentle and not when he seemed to be doing it with that look in his eyes, as if nothing pleased him more. Harry flushed a little, closing his eyes and turning his head away at that. His belly still roiled with unease and his right hand clenched around his wand as he whispered, “Yes… Make me…”  
  
With that, Draco swallowed the entire length of Harry’s thick cock, deep down to the root. He spluttered around it, almost choking on it when it touched the very back of his warm throat. He felt the weeping glans in his throat and he swallowed, his muscles clenching around it. “Hmmmm,” He groaned out as his lips touched Harry’s base, his cock thickening with each pull of those lips. Slowly he began to bob his head a little, building up the pace slowly and he couldn't help but notice Harry wriggling at the sensation.   
  
“Oh! Merlin!” Harry gasped out in guilty pleasure, trying to keep his hips still so that Draco didn’t gag on his swelling hardness. He felt his tip leaking, hot and deep in Draco’s throat, felt that tongue sweeping up over the vein running underneath and his body curved. He panted for breath, turning his cheek as far into the covers as they would go. This felt far too intimate and personal and he wasn’t entirely sure he deserved it, but Draco seemed to think he did – or maybe it was that Draco just wanted to, for some reason…  
  
Perhaps the obsession ran deeper than just a burning desire to have him? But as soon as that thought shot through his mind, it was blown away by other, subtler sensations that simply wanted to make him groan in frustration. Feelings like Draco’s soft tendrils sweeping over his pubic bone with every, hard suck, the fingers of his left hand cupping his balls and rolling them gently while the other caressed the length of his thigh distractedly. This felt so…strange, but not in a bad way.  
  
Draco tickled his fingers over the shape of Harry’s hip, his touch feather-light and cautious as it had _never_ been and he felt Harry’s hips jerk with the little tingles that caresseded his skin. Harry looked so glorious like this, eyes lidded with pleasure, why had he not catered to his body as he should have from the start?  
  
He ran the full flat of his palm up over Harry’s stomach, trying not to linger there as he stroked his torso, worshipping the smooth flesh. And Harry moved against him, almost willingly into him. Draco groaned at the feeling of his surrender, even if it was only dubious consent. He drew up slowly then, but not before letting the suction of his sucking pull him back down again. He fondled Harry’s testicles carefuly and tugged at them a little when he moved his lips up and down the thick shaft.  
  
“Ahmm!” The blond breathed out, hot trickles of saliva dripping over the purple tip as he drew back.   
  
“Oh! Don’t stop!” Harry growled out before he could even realise what he was saying. Heat rushed over his body, boiling his bubbling blood. He felt his heart slamming against his chest, felt sweat slither down his torso. Then he felt his body tense in that delicious way an his hand shot out in a spasm, grabbing Draco’s wrist as it slid sensuously over his stomach. His every breath was shattered by a breathy moan and he slid over the sheets like a sweaty serpent, not even realising when Draco slid their fingers together.  
  
“That’s…good! Keep going! S-So close!” He ground out through clenched teeth, the coppery taste of blood filling his mouth as he bit down on his tongue accidentally.  
  
Sweat dripped from Draco’s forehead and down the bridge of his slightly pointed nose as hastened his motions over that prick, Harry’s own hand tightening around his wrist. He knew Harry was close and continued to pump his head determindedly along the pulsing organ that was shuddering madly inside his hot mouth. He heard Harry gasp from above and he moved faster, groaning deep in his throat.  
  
“Give me you're cum,” he murmured incoherently around his mouthful.  
  
Harry tossed his head into the caress of the sheets, grinding enthusiastically into Draco’s mouth. His mouth watered. He wanted to be kissed for some reason, but those lips were otherwise pleasantly occupied, so he brought their interlocked fingers up, unconsciously brushing them over his lips with urgent fervour. The unwitting action drew a deep groan from Draco’s throat and it caressed Harry’s hardness with its sinful vibrations. The world went white-hot. Draco’s languid tongue traced the pulsing veins of his heat, so close to explosion and he cried out, almost there.   
  
Those greedy, insatiable lips sucked his thick head before descending to take him deep each time and the thought passed his mind that he was fucking Draco Malfoy’s mouth before his shaft twitched, pounding into the soft heat of Draco’s cavern before he cried out again. “Your mouth – so hot!” He gasped, before his climax tore through his desperate, purple prick and seared the tip as it painted Draco’s tongue.  
  
Draco swallowed hard and sucked a few more shudders of pleasure from that length to make sure he got every last drop, before drawing back with a generous lick at the tip. At last he looked up at Harry, who was still breathing heavy and panting hard in the afterglow. Draco crawled up his body, arms trembling from the effort of holding him up and felt Harry tense again as he inadvertently caged him in. He studied Harry closely, not missing the way his husband’s reluctant hand approach his own straining crotch…  
  
His hand shot down to catch Harry’s wrist, stopping it in it’s tracks. Harry jumped.  
  
“No,” Draco insisted huskily, “That was just for you.” He pulled Harry’s hand away and rolled onto his side, ignoring the confusion etched into those features. “Besides, you really should rest,” Draco added, pulling the duvet up over them and not attempting to share warmth with Harry, keeping to his side of the bed as he closed his eyes.  
  
His head was swimming with thoughts and the scent of Harry’s musk, he wanted to bury his face in his hair but he could still feel him tense and uneasy on the bed. _But he let you touch him despite your rotten deeds_ , his mind spat. His eyes clenched. He’d never be able to sleep with all the voices in his head. _He let you give him pleasure, however half-heartedly, which is more than you deserve_. Much much more. He couldn’t help but agree. And still, he couldn’t help but hope for more, either. Even if his hopes were fruitless in the end.  
  
 _  
~To Be Continued..._


	10. Enduring Uncertainty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, story keeps on progressing here on out. Draco and Harry both change al ot. Draco he isn't as changed as you may think - not yet. He isn't being the dutiful, loving husband yet though he is really trying, he still has some major flaws and the Draco you're used to so far shows through the cracks a lot in following chapters. He wants the baby and Harry but he is tainted by guilt and other, darker pains we'll discover later on. You'll have to watch him redeem himself more gradually.
> 
> Thanks to all the reviewers and readers as always, sincerely hope you're all enjoying as much as we're enjoying writing ^_^

[Ten]  
 **Enduring Uncertainty**  
  
  
  
Harry woke up the next morning feeling distinctly frustrated, even before he’d opened his eyes. There was a strange heat tingling between his legs and a frown crossed his brow as he came closer to consciousness, eyes fluttering before they finally opened. He froze. The sun was blocked neatly by the curtains but the slither that escaped in illuminated the scene effortlessly. His thighs were wrapped around Draco’s hips and he was grinding his morning erection into the blond’s legs unconsciously, his mouth resting near the pale shell of that ear so that blond locks tickled his nose a little.  
  
He heard Draco make a noise and rolled back off him stealthily, trying not to wake him up (and let him catch him in such a state) but he didn’t get very far.  
  
Wriggling under the sheets, still slumbering deeply, Draco exhaled shakily at the feel of something hard pressing into his leg. A frown creased his brow at that, in combination with the hot breath steaming over his ear. He shifted aside in his sleep, trying to pull his head away from the sudden heat filling it. But somehow the heat followed.   
  
His eyelids flickered. The morning’s light streamed in through the curtains beside the bed and he flinched away, slowly raising a hand to run through his blond locks. But as he wiped the sleep from his eyes, it all slowly came back to him. He glanced to the side to see his husband trying to edge away and it hit him like a slap in the face.  
  
“You’re pregnant?!” He gasped out, in sudden realisation. Somehow, waking up beside him made it that much more real.  
  
Harry cocked a brow at him, his cheeks flushed at his narrow escape of being caught. “Yes and yes,” Harry answered awkwardly, his voice husky from sleep. He shifted himself on the bed, increasing the distance subtly – but not enough so, because Draco’s eyes flicked to the increasing space between them. Harry blushed even darker and got to his feet, searching the floor for his pyjama bottoms but not finding them anywhere.  
  
At that moment, Draco moved across the bed towards him, and Harry stepped back, pulling the hem of his pyjama shirt down to try and cover himself. Picking up his glasses from the side with his other hand, he slid them onto his nose, although when he saw Draco staring at him smugly, he wished he hadn’t. “N-Nice sleep?” He asked distractedly.   
  
“Apart from my wake up call… _Grinding_ against my leg, Harry?” Draco laughed. “That’s unlike you, anyone would think you _want_ me.” The Slytherin teased though his stomach plummeted at the mere fantasy of Harry really wanting him. He only wished.  
  
“Don’t look so affronted, I was joking…” He hissed at his expression, walking passed a blushing Harry to open his wardrobe. “Come on, get up,” he ordered. When Harry only looked confused with him, he sighed, his husband had a brain like a sieve. “We will never get an appointment if we wait until afternoon. Now come on, get up,” Draco growled, handing him a clean shirt.   
  
Harry winced at the reminder. He had promised they would go to St Mungo’s today. He felt the already nauseating feeling in his stomach intensify at the prospect of being examined, poked and prodded and _looked_ at in places he had no desire to be seen.  
  
“Yeah, right,” Harry grumbled, mentally cringing from the thought and pulling on the clean shirt. He wondered briefly, how long this shirt would fit for, but he supposed that would be one of the many things he found out today. Finding some clean underwear and trousers to pull on, he cast a brief glance to Draco. The thought of having to ask Draco to take him out to buy baggier clothes because he’d gotten too fat was _not_ appealing. He could imagine that ridiculous grin already…  
  
Doing up his buttons hastily, he unconsciously moved over to the mirror. When he caught sight of his reflection he frowned, never much caring for the sight of it and not realising Draco was watching him – as always. He stared at the glass thoughtfully for a moment, his fingers hovering over his flat stomach through his shirt, but not touching, it felt… _weird_ , to touch. Glancing up further though, he finally caught Draco watching and dropped his arms instantly.   
  
“If you’re feeling self-conscious now, what will you think in nine months time?” Draco snapped impatiently, Harry just frowned at that while Draco added, “Seriously, what’s the matter with you this morning?”   
  
Stripping out of his nightwear, Draco reached for his fresh clothes, the morning’s light illuminating every curve of his pristine, well-toned abs. Sometimes he seemed to radiate pure magic without the use of a wand, without even trying. Could make his admirers shudder at the sight of him, and yet he couldn’t attract the one person he wanted – not for keeps anyway.   
  
_Through no one’s fault but your own,_ his conscience bit out.  
  
As if to punish that inner voice, his pride swelling in his throat, Draco turned to face Harry with a a vacant expression. “What are you staring at?”  
  
Harry shook his head, toeing on his shoes and turning away from the mirror so it could no longer torture him. “Last night it was all a bad dream, today it’s all… _real_ , alright?” He murmured, wandering into the bathroom to brush his teeth, but Draco followed (evidently wishing for further elaboration) running a comb through his blond strands. Staring at his _husband’s_ reflection, Harry sighed through the brush between his teeth.  
  
“Your part is done you know, it’s me that has to do all of the… _painful_ parts. I was there when Hermione went into labour – the memory is hardly encouraging.” He cringed at the image that was permanently engraved into his mind and also at the half truth. It wasn’t just the pain the next nine months and what came at the end of it brought. He was worried about how he would _cope_ with how everything was going to change.   
  
Draco gazed a him a moment longer. “Just like you, Harry, complaining about how miserable your life is and all the pain you have to endure. Life isn't fair, it’s painful and if it were me who had got up the duff, I could swear I wouldn't be complaining and finding all the faults with the amazing gift I’d been given,” Draco grunted. Walking over to the side-table again, he retrieved his wand and gestured for Harry to follow him.  
  
“How would you like to travel?”  
  
Harry scowled for a moment before pursuing him, making sure to take his time on the stairs just to annoy Draco. He felt the anxious swell of nausea in his gut as he reached the bottom, crossing the foyer after Malfoy. He stared at him thoughtfully. Malfoy really saw this as something flawlessly magnificent and he wondered if the pain or hardship would truly seem to insignificant to him, if he in fact did have to endure it. _I can’t expect any help off of him then,_ he thought bitterly.  
  
“Floo,” he murmured, not trusting his stomach with apparating this morning, but as they passed through towards the fireplace, Harry’s eyes shot to the figure leaning against the doorframe to the dining room. Lucius Malfoy sipped his dark red wine from the thin-stemmed glass, his eyes fixed on him.   
  
A shudder slid down Harry’s spine, cold and foreboding. And wasn’t it a little too early to be drinking? Harry could not help but wonder what sort of part Lucius had played in Draco’s upbringing. Narcissa seemed the typical ideal mother, whereas Lucius…  
  
 _He’s looking at me – or I suppose_ my stomach, _weird_ , Harry thought, a small pressure on his lower back making him jump. He looked up to see Draco ushering him across the foyer towards the fireplace (and away from his father’s gaze).  
  
“Draco?” Harry asked.  
  
“Yes, Father?” Draco demanded of his silent parent, ignoring Harry, Lucius took another sip of his wine to delay the moment when he would reply. Draco glanced back and noticed Harry hadn't moved into the fireplace as he’d asked. He frowned, gritting his teeth.  
  
“Where might you and your young husband be taking yourselves?” Lucius murmured, tipping up the glass to drain the remainder of his wine as his eyes lingered on the boy waiting by the fireplace, distinctively separate from them. “I trust you remember my _advice_ of yesterday, concerning how to make the most of this… _unfortunate_ blunder?” Before him, Draco flinched and the smallest of smiles tipped at Lucius Malfoy’s mouth at the sight of it.  
  
“Not that it's anything to do with you, but we were going to St. Mungo’s,” Draco said boldly, squaring his shoulders a little. “Now, if you would be so kind, we must be on our way.” The taller blond raised a brow and let out a hiss of bitter disbelief through his teeth.   
  
“My son is actually taking care of his husband? Whatever could have inspired this sudden change?”  
  
Draco tensed further still. “We will be leaving now.” Moving over towards Harry, he gestured for him to move. He had never cared much for his father, not since he was a very small, naïve child. Unlike his younger days, he was stronger and able to just walk away from the man who had made his life such a misery…  
  
“What was all that about?” Harry asked, looking from Draco and across to Lucius, who was watching them with something akin to amusement in his eyes. Draco just shot him a look in answer, before stepping into the fireplace, but instead of heading on ahead, Draco clucked his tongue impatiently and dragged Harry into the fire beside him, his arm keeping firm hold of him as he threw the floo powder into the flames.   
  
St Mungo’s didn’t seem to be busy at this time of the morning. But Harry soon realised they were not in the main building, as he stared around at the flawlessly clean waiting room they had stumbled into. It was awash with whites and gold, the colours even extending to the clothing of the healers passing by silently. Harry eyed them curiously, while Draco moved over to the reception desk.  
  
This was a specific area of the hospital he hadn’t visited before, even when Hermione had been having Hugo…  
  
He heard Draco murmur something to the receptionist, perhaps pressing his _irresistible charms_ on her to get them a last-minute appointment. He imagined the eagerness to help the owner of the Daily Prophet (who could post bad publicity of them in a second) would be extreme. As Draco talked with the squat little witch at the desk, Harry stared at his back, wondering. Lucius Malfoy seemed to be a pretty piss-poor father, so Harry could not help but wonder what kind Draco might be…  
  
Harry winced as another roll of nausea roiled deep in his stomach and he felt icy sweat slide down the back of his neck. Growling in irritation at the recurring feeling, he dropped down into the nearest chair, hoping to the _heavens_ he was not sick somewhere public, he didn’t want to even contemplate how mocking Draco would be.   
  
“We will call you when we are ready for you, if you would like to take a seat with your… _wife_ , I presume?” The women suggested, only to scan the near-empty waiting room and find there was no woman waiting for Draco at all.  
“My husband,” Draco corrected.  
“Oh I see,” She choked, watching as the blond rolled his eyes and took up a seat beside Harry.  
  
“We just have to wait until we are called,” Draco began, unnerved when he looked to the side to see a very pale Harry. “You don't look good,” He noted cautiously.   
  
Harry tried to wave him off, keeping his eyes on the perfectly tiled, white floor. “‘M Fine,” he managed out, despite feeling the bile rise up his throat. But they hadn’t had breakfast this morning, there wouldn’t be anything to bring up surely? “We won’t have to wait long will we? It’s bad enough knowing that I have to be poked at but being stared at while I wait, like I’m some sort of _freak_ is…” He trailed off and glanced up, Draco following his line of sight. As if on cue, the receptionist immediately looked back to her desk, apparently finding some other occupation for her wandering eyes.  
  
“I feel really sick,” Harry confessed then, glancing at Draco as steadily as he could, as if testing him. He really couldn’t imagine Draco enduring this kind of constant discomfort without complaint, he’d always been one to lay it on rather thick. But that didn’t mean he would be the same sort of father as Lucius. He was very interested to know if this uncomfortable aura between father and son extended before he had arrived, it certainly seemed as if things had been like this for some time.   
  
“Well get up then,” Draco grunted suddenly. “I'll take you to the loo,” He added. Looking down at him, he seemed to grow paler. “Well?” The blond prompted. Waiting for him to get to his feet. He couldn't sit there and allow Harry to fester like some fly waiting to die and he didn't want to be sat next to his husband while he was feeling queasy for many obvious reasons.  
  
“Come on, I'll take you,” Draco said again with a shrug. As if he was instantly blowing of his kindness the moment he offered it.   
  
Harry stared at him in absolute shock for a moment, before getting to his feet, keeping his back straight despite his roiling stomach, anything but allowing the weakness to overcome him. He opened his mouth to speak, to say anything to negate the pitiful state he was in, but before he could manage sound, he felt his stomach lurch and his hand flew to his mouth. He only nodded.  
  
Draco got him to the toilet just in time for Harry to stumble into one of the cubicles and vomit up the sandwiches from last night. A man at the urinal looked back over his shoulder in curious confusion at Harry, throwing up in the toilet and Draco, standing behind him at the door of the cubicle.   
  
“Oh wow,” Harry grumbled out with biting, nauseated sarcasm, “I think I’m vomiting my insides up…” He gave a weak laugh before retching again. But after a few short moments, the cold-sweats and the ache in his belly faded, unbelievably fast and he shakily got to his feet. He wiped his mouth quickly when he saw that both Malfoy and the random stranger were watching him.   
  
“Are you alright?” Draco asked. Harry had probably never seen his expression this way before. But he generally looked concerned.   
“Yes, I hope you’re alright?” The stranger added. “Your stomach always complains, eh? Need to watch what you eat?”   
Draco shot him a glare. “He’s pregnant you cretin!” He spat.  
The stranger stood with his lips moving soundlessly for a few moments, the perfect picture of awkwardness. “Oh, I'll just…” And with that he slipped out of the men’s toilet as quickly as he could.  
  
Harry seemed to look annoyed suddenly, but Draco just smiled. “What? It seemed like he was making you uncomfortable, it was the easiest way to get him to piss off.”  
  
“Yeah,” Harry replied hesitantly, relieved at Draco’s help even if he was suspicious of it. Now that the toilet had been cleared, Harry moved over to the sinks to splash water over his hands and face, playing that stranger’s reaction over and over again in his head.  
  
He exhaled sharply through his mouth as he stared at his reflection in the mirror over the sink, his dark hair sticking up with the water he’d flicked through it, but the nausea was completely gone. Draco was staring at him with…concern, that was definitely something he’d have to get used to, although it was nice to feel like the person who was responsible for him _cared_ about him for once. He’d never had that, aside from the Weasleys.  
  
“I’m alright now,” he assured him, watching the colour return to his cheeks in the mirror. “T-Thanks for err…just now, you know…with the bloke that was watching me.” Draco seemed taken aback by the thanks and Harry cleared his throat awkwardly, turning and heading out of the door into the waiting room again, Draco close behind. He stopped just before they reached their previous seats, whirling to face Draco with a look of indecisiveness crossing his features.  
  
“Will they all react like that – like that man, I mean?” Hermione seemed ok with it but Ron hadn’t really seemed supportive, no one else’s opinion really mattered to him that deeply but he didn’t like the idea of being stared at. Though he should be used to it by now. He supposed that since Draco owned the Daily Prophet at least they couldn’t post offensive things about him – unless he pissed Draco off. “How common is this? Is it really weird or does it happen fairly often? Will…will the baby be _normal_ even?” He saw Draco’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise at his bombardment of questions.   
  
“Err…it is uncommon, mostly because most men aren’t susceptible to the potion, but it is _possible_ , like I said, and the baby should be healthy like any other baby.”  
“How do I even give birth to it?” Harry asked. Draco looked flabbergasted.  
  
“Mr and Mrs Malfoy next please?” A healer from a door nearby called and Harry shot Draco a glare. He hadn't seriously given Harry’s name as ‘Mrs’ had he?  
“Don't look at me, the healer probably assumed you were a woman,” Draco said in his own defence, following a now stroppy Harry through into the medical room.  
  
“Oh,” The healer at the door gasped as Harry stormed in and assumed the chair closest to the door. “Mr and _Mr_ Malfoy, then,” She amended, tipping her head politely to Draco as he stepped in also and closed the door behind him, finally taking the seat beside Harry. “I was not made aware of the situation, I apologise,” The healer murmured, scribbling a few things down on her clipboard.  
  
“This certainly changes a few things. I haven’t dealt with a male pregnancy personally for around seven years.”  
“So they are more common than I thought, then,” Harry said, not exactly sure how to look or how to sit, just feeling incredibly uncomfortable and folding his hands in his lap restlessly. This woman was staring at him, and so was Draco, he didn’t like it.  
  
“Only around one-third of the…” She paused a moment, as if considering her words carefully. She had probably not dealt with a wizard who had gotten into his position without knowing the details before, since he couldn’t exactly conceive naturally. “… _gay_ wizarding population desire to sire their own children, most prefer adoption or surrogacy since… Well, to be honest Mr Malfoy, it is the easiest solution for them, I suppose. So it isn’t a rare phenomenon, merely…unusual for this way to be chosen.”  
  
“I didn’t choose this,” Harry grumbled, and he watched the healer look between him and Malfoy a few times, her mouth opening to say something, but Harry cut her off. “Can we er…get on with this? Procedure and all… I’m not doing this for the _fun_ of it all, you know.” As Malfoy cringed at his rudeness, Harry was forced to wonder when he had become so callous in his manners – perhaps being pregnant just didn’t suit his personality, it was making him cutting and bitter.  
  
“Of course,” the Healer said, “You may call me Healer O’Dempsy. Your husband is the father, I assume?”  
Draco went rigid beside him again, his cheeks tense as if he were biting his tongue and Harry frowned. This Healer O’Dempsy was going to get him into trouble with Malfoy’s temper!  
  
“We have an arrangement in our vows, it couldn’t possibly have been anyone else, because he’s the only one that I can touch–”  
“As it is with many vows, Mr Malfoy,” the Healer cut across Harry, still scribbling on her confounded clipboard. “However… There are _unfortunate_ circumstances in which you can be touched… Only when your consent is given is the vow valid – were someone to press themselves upon you without it, the promise is void.”  
  
She fell silent then and Harry looked to Draco, chewing his lower lip thoughtfully. He hadn’t ever thought about it until now…but those girls Draco had brought to their home before, (the ones that had helped Draco pierce his nipples) he hadn’t consented to their touch, that was why he hadn’t died. So someone could _rape_ him?!  
  
“I have your records here,” Healer O’Dempsy continued, “Ah yes, now I see it… A Potter and a Malfoy? That is interesting…”  
  
Harry didn’t ask her why it was interesting, nor did he care, he just wanted this over with…  
  
“I apologise, but I had not heard that Harry Potter had married a Malfoy.”  
“What, were you living under a _rock_?” Harry grumbled, “The arse printed a big enough spread on the stupid prophet about it, they’ve been raving about our _honeymoon_ for weeks.”  
  
It was then that Draco turned his head and shot him the deadliest of glares. Harry stilled, but did not let his look of defiance tremble. He knew why Draco was getting angry – people weren’t supposed to know that he, Harry had been forced into this, they were supposed to think them the ideal, loving couple, that is what Lucius Malfoy had thought would most benefit the family name…  
  
“Well, you both have very conclusive records, no illnesses in the blood, the rest can be told from the exam – if you will, Mr Malfoy?” She got to her feet, pulling her wand from her crisp white-and-gold robes. Harry didn’t move. What did she mean? _Who_ did she mean? This entire ‘Mr Malfoy’ business was far too confusing.  
  
“Mr _Harry_ Malfoy,” She clarified, gesturing for him to move to the examination bed behind him. Draco just raised a brow when Harry looked to him, and the dark-haired boy growled under his breath at his lack of help. He moved onto the edge of the bed and sat there, waiting. She watched him expectantly for a few moments, and Harry frowned. What was he supposed to do?   
  
Giving a small sigh, the woman waved her wand over his arm and then scribbled something down on her notes. “Blood pressure is normal, now do lie back, Mr Malfoy.”   
“I’m Harry, not Mr Malfoy,” he finally cut across her, hating that his name wasn’t even his own anymore. He _hated_ ‘Harry Malfoy’, the way it sounded, the things it implied, and the way it rolled off Draco’s tongue so easily whilst he was forcing him to do the most sordid things.  
  
Laying back reluctantly, he felt every single muscle in his body bunch and tense with awkwardness. This was so humiliating and uncomfortable. His hands were stiff at his sides and his eyes were rigidly focused on the ceiling. He couldn’t stand it! _Please, just get it over with!_ But the worst hadn’t come yet.  
  
“Evidently you have not been to one of these before, Harry but it is virtually painless,” She assured him.  
“ _Virtually_?” He repeated, although he was no stranger to pain, he would handle it, much better than Draco ever could. _Little wuss_ , he thought bitterly as the Healer held her wand aloft over his abdomen.   
  
“Please lift your shirt up, Harry.”  
  
Harry winced, as if he had been struck but did as he was told, his fingers clinging to the hem of his shirt even as he lifted it. He was glad he had already been sick, because the uneasiness and the mortification he now felt would probably have made him do so anyway, if not. His cheeks coloured and to his horror, Draco was up on his feet next to him now. Harry turned his head away to look at the wall.  
  
Suddenly a very odd, warm feeling spread over his stomach and Harry’s gaze shot down to see a pale, golden glow spreading through the skin of his stomach – like when you’d shone a torch through your fingers, except it was getting brighter and brighter. “There we go, Mr Malfoy,” the Healer said softly, but to Draco this time, and Harry frowned as he looked at Draco, staring at the wall the examination table was pushed against. Looking up, Harry saw the golden light projected onto the wall in the form of an indistinguishable image. He stared between his abdomen and the wall a few times. It felt odd, he couldn’t even really _feel_ any different yet.   
  
But at whatever stage he was, or how far along, he definitely felt something, felt something odd besides the magic warmth in his stomach as he saw Draco’s expression shift strangely at the quiet, dull hum of a heartbeat accompanying the projection on the wall. _This is just…really…_ really _weird_ , Harry thought.  
  
 Draco gazed at the small shape reflected on the wall, his eyes alight with an uncharacteristic hope. “It's beautiful…!” He gasped, staring at the shapeless outline. “I don't suppose we could get a copy?” He asked looking sideways at O’Dempsy.   
  
Harry squirmed uncomfortably, especially when Draco looked down at his naked stomach but the healer smiled warmly at Draco – perhaps she was pleased that one of them, at least seemed to give a damn. Harry cared, of course, but Draco definitely appeared more emotionally attached, perhaps O’Dempsy disapproved of Harry’s cavalier attitude and his awkwardness.  
  
“Of course, Mr Malfoy, I will hand you one before you leave,” She said, and with that, she drew her wand away and the light faded. Harry sighed in relief, sitting up immediately and pulling his shirt down over his stomach, but not before he caught the healer staring at it. “That piercing should come out before your stomach grows too large,” she advised disapprovingly.  
  
Harry flushed darkly, wondering what it must look like to have Draco’s family initial dangling from his navel. _Probably looks exactly as it is,_ he thought bitterly, moving to his feet but finding himself uncomfortably close to Draco when he did so. The blond seemed so oddly quiet and kept looking at him in – not awe but something similar, something that made Harry incredibly uncomfortable.  
  
“I have recorded your height and weight, I expect to keep an eye on the latter over our check-ups to make sure everything is progressing nicely,” the healer continued, waving her wand over the notes she had taken and they disappeared with a _pop_ , no doubt to be filed, leaving a small, neat little square in its place. The woman picked it up, handing the picture to Draco as she continued to speak. “I have estimated you are about five weeks along.”  
  
Whilst Draco seemed mesmerised by the sonogram picture (which moved like a wizarding photograph) Harry just nodded dumbly. Five weeks, yes that was roughly the time that Draco had given him that polyjuice potion, the one that had turned him into a girl. _That would make definite sense,_ he thought.  
  
“It might please you to know, Harry, that your baby is progressing perfectly normally, although there is some tenderness, some scars around your abdominal area, have you been indulging in any reckless behaviour?”  
That time, Harry felt Draco flinch beside him, and he saw that jaw set with frustration and guilt.  
“I fought in a war, madam,” Harry replied coolly, sparing Draco from having to answer. He didn’t want this woman’s pity for the true story. “I killed Voldemort – I have a lot of scars.”  
“Be that as it may, they seem fresh,” She retorted, shuddering at _that_ name, even now. “However, they do not seem to be causing any harm as of yet, we shall keep an eye on them. May I help you with anything else today?”  
  
She handed Harry a small card, it had the date of their next appointment and her name on. Harry swallowed, tucking it away in his pocket. Yes, there was a question – a question he was both too embarrassed and too afraid to ask, for fear of the answer, but it needed to be done. “Where will… Well…when the time comes… Where does it…you know – _come out_?”  
  
“We perform a series of standard spells to remove the child through your stomach, via a c-section of course. Just as we would with women who cannot give birth vaginally,” O’Dempsy informed him robotically. Harry felt rather stupid at that. Trust it to be the most obvious answer. Draco seemed to be smiling beside him which only frustrated him all the more.   
  
“Though there are other ways for a male to deliver, this one seemed the most practical and the safest, given the circumstances. If circumstance changes, we can of course discuss other options with you,” O’Dempsy continued.   
  
“Well, thank you very much, we will be back soon then,” Draco said, shaking the woman's hand and giving her a fleeting smile before opening the door for his _'husband'_. Harry didn't even acknowledge the healer further, simply striding through the door with Draco close behind him.   
  
“Do you want to see this?” Draco asked, gesturing to the small picture he had clasped in his hand.  
  
Harry inclined his head to look at the picture, not sure whether he wanted to see it or not. This all felt incredibly surreal – and not necessarily in a good way. He’d always wanted children, of course he had but not like this, not with someone who had done such vile things to him, had _raped_ him, and not when the situation had been forced on him. _How can it ever be fair to bring a child into a world where it’s_ father _had to bribe it’s_ …mother _to keep the baby?_  
  
He cringed at the thought of bargaining his child away, but Draco really wanted it, it seemed – especially the way he now stared at the picture, and he, Harry, he didn’t really want to carry his rapist’s child…  
  
Before he could even answer the blond, however, the girl at the front desk had cornered them before they reached the floo. “Mr and… _Mr_ Malfoy?” she called to them, thrusting a small book into Harry’s hands with a goofy smile. “I was told to give it to you,” she said to Harry, “So that you know what to expect. You’re in the first trimester, so you may experience fatigue, be sure to get lots of rest. Frequent urination and morning sickness, as well as (obviously) weight gain will also affect you. Some men experience…breast tenderness but this is not always the case. We are satisfied, however, that your husband will take good care of you, good day to you both.”  
  
Harry winced at her cheeriness, and at the smirk of glee on Draco’s face at the insinuation he was a responsible parent. _If only they knew,_ Harry thought with a sneer, reluctantly standing close to Draco in the entry fireplace, loathing the way the blond’s arm snuck around his lower back as he threw down the floo powder.   
  
“Malfoy Manor!”  
  
With a whirl of dust and ash and dizziness, Harry came stumbling out of the grate, choking and spluttering on his own spittle. He really hated using the Floo Network. He felt Draco at his side, seemingly not knowing what to do to aid him, and so Harry straightened up despite his discomfort, backing away from Draco a little. He didn’t trust him. There was no way he could let his guard down for even a second with him. Not even now.   
  
_There are plenty of things that won’t harm his precious baby but will drive me insane,_ he thought, flinching at the memory of what Draco had done to him in front of the fireplace. His hands instinctively moved forwards to fold together in front of himself – as if in protection.  
  
“You should rest maybe?” Draco suggested. Was he serious? After all he had done, he couldn’t really think he could turn ‘nice’ all of a sudden and receive instant forgiveness? “We have to meet with father tonight to discuss details on the annoncement party…”  
  
Harry seemed utterly confussed.  
  
“Well, what will people start to think when suddenly you get fat?” Draco elaborated, joking of course. But Harry wasn't laughing. This was far too… _awkward_. “Come on, I'll take you upstairs?” Draco offered but Harry wasn’t moving. The blond felt his blood begin to boil and grated his teeth together in his struggle for control of his temper. “Fine, stay down here and freeze!” Draco huffed, pacing quickly up the stairs that lead to their suite.  
  
Harry sneered, bolting to the end of the stairs and calling up after him. “Maybe I will! It’s better than being _anywhere_ near you! Or did you forget, if I freeze so does your _precious_ child!” He snarled. He knew he was been selfish, perhaps even spiteful, but he couldn’t find the will to care. His life was already such a mess, but now…  
  
He cursed the vile thing inside him that was part Malfoy. And it made him sick that he hated it so much, it was just a baby, it was still part of him. But he couldn’t help it. _Maybe if Draco had been different. Maybe if things had been different,_ he thought, unshed tears pricking the backs of his eyes. But things weren’t different, and he’d agreed to it now.   
  
“And your father can piss off! I’m not being paraded around as your bloody pregnant show-horse!”   
  
Draco stood still while Harry spoke, fighting his temper. That was his child in there, he reminded himself, biting back frustrated tears and carrying on up the hall. He didn't want to get into a fight with him, not when he knew Harry needed to rest. Not when they were both already so emotionally exhausted.  
  
“Just…come up when and if you're ready,” He called back to Harry. His father would have been so ashamed, forgoing his pride so easily. _I cannot allow anything to happen to it, no matter what,_ Draco thought. Despite what Harry thought, he was regretting the cruel things he had done to him, and not just because Harry was pregnant.   
  
“I'll never shake off this obssession with you, but that’s my child,” He grumbled to himself, so quiet Harry hadn’t a hope of hearing.  
  
* * *  
  
 _Malfoys work fast,_ Harry thought bitterly as he stood there beside Draco, keeping his eyes averted and to the ground. Lucius Malfoy had arranged this gathering already, and it was only the evening after he had found out himself! It was nothing as grand as the reception of his and Draco’s… _wedding_ , it was what he had heard Narcissa call a _‘wine party’_. Regardless, there were hundreds of people gathered before him, sipping their wine whilst watching him and Draco as Lucius spoke, as if they were some sort of side-show attraction.  
  
It brought a bitter taste to Harry’s mouth – his only consolation was that Draco seemed just as irritated by it all as he was. He had even tried to get Harry out of having to attend, to his credit, but Lucius would have none of it, and Harry was simply too tired to argue tonight. _Should have had the lay down when Draco said,_ his mind reprimanded him.  
  
“…Of course we are all very pleased. It came as a bit of a surprise, naturally, so quickly and all but these things will happen…”  
  
Harry mentally sneered at Lucius’s declaration, how could they have possibly gotten pregnant by mistake in a civilised marriage, if the event could only come about via a potion? Then he remembered, he and Draco were meant to be playing the happy couple, and he forced the exhausted, dejected look from his face. And at last, Lucius was finished talking and they were allowed to disperse into the crowds. Harry almost preferred standing there being ogled. At least then he wouldn’t have people cornering him.  
  
“Your father likes the sound of his own voice,” Harry murmured to Draco as the blond handed him a glass of pumpkin juice – since Harry couldn’t have wine. There were already people lingering, as if they might like to get the chance to corner them both.  
  
“Wow, ya know I'm very surprised at this?” A tall, brown-haired man said, approaching them both, he was young and fair-skinned, and appeared to be wearing a rather tight pair of black trousers. “Me and my boyfriend – well I say _boyfriend_ , he’s my ex now. But we tried to to conceive for years, all sorts of ways, my body was having none of it though. The potions never took.”  
  
Harry smiled at the charming chap while Draco stood beside him, sneering at his forward attitude.   
  
“My name's Jeremy,” The man said, holding his hand out to Harry. Harry took his hand happily.   
“Nice to meet you,” Harry replied. The man looked very well looked after, his hair perfectly cut to the side. And the way Harry so readily gave into his smiles and politeness made Draco’s stomach churn with possessive anger.  
  
“Do you mind if I feel? Your stomach, I mean?” Draco shot the boy a look, but he was more focused on Harry and didn't seem to see it.  
  
“Errr, yeah, I s’pose,” Harry murmured awkwardly, “You can’t really feel anything though, I’m only five weeks along.” He gave the boy a polite smile as he reached forwards, his palm sliding over Harry’s still very flat stomach. It felt weird, having people touch him, after all, you couldn’t even see any difference yet, but this boy seemed nice enough, reminding him oddly of Colin Creevey in personality. It was a breath of fresh air after the depressing few days he’d had…  
  
“Wow!” Jeremy said in awe, stepping a little closer to press his palm flat against him, “It’s so amazing! To think there’s a life inside of you – and magic helped create it! I was a muggleborn and I cant believe that there is magic out there that can allow people like us to have our own children – _really_ our own. I wish it would have worked for me,” he said, his voice still bright and perky, and a smile still on his face. He seemed very excitable. “You’re so lucky Mr Potter–”  
“His name is _Malfoy_ ,” Draco sneered.  
“Of course! My mistake,” Jeremy beamed, “I forget, always known of him as Harry Potter – but you’re so lucky Harry,” he said, turning back to Harry, not removing his hand from his stomach, “The necessary potions to prepare a man’s body don’t work for everyone. So lucky…it’s beautiful isn’t it?”  
  
“Will that be all?” Draco asked, his glare dark and foreboding. But this man was still ignoring him!   
  
“Please stay in contact with me through the pregnancy, Harry, my father works with the ministry, so naturally I get dragged along to these gatherings. But when he told me you would be here, I just had to come and talk to you myself! Make sure you have lots of rest, though, I'm sure the healers have already told you.” Harry nodded and Jeremy continued, still beaming.  
  
“If I were your husband, I'd be making you breakfast in bed every morning, waiting on you hand and foot – doing everything for you. Though I'm sure, of course, Mr Malfoy is doing those things for you already,” The boy said sheepishly, giving Draco a curt nod.  
  
Draco was about ready to punch him, Harry could tell. His aura was dark. Was he…was he getting jealous?  
  
“Of course, Jeremy,” Harry assured him, still smiling, if only to save the poor innocent boy’s life, “We’ll see you around, maybe even later it was nice meeting you.” And with that, he seized Draco’s wrist firmly, dragging him over to the open doors that lead out onto the deserted balcony, where they were less likely to be overheard.  
  
“What’s the matter with you?” Harry hissed, “your rotten father wanted me to play nice with the guests, I’m playing the perfect little _wife_ for you! What more can you want?”  
  
 _You, you idiot,_ Draco thought, seizing Harry’s arm roughly and dragging him out further onto the balcony, pushing him firmly to the ornate balustrade. “Don’t you _dare_ touch me!” Harry snarled, his arms tensing at his sides with fury. It hadn’t taken Draco long to start shoving him around again, had it?   
  
“Shut the fuck up! You have no say in whether I touch you or not when you let some stranger touch you that easily – and touch you _there_!” Draco spat, his nails pressing Harry’s wrist into the wall below. Harry tried to struggle but was stuck where he was, with Draco’s weight as the bars on his prison.  
  
Draco ducked his head into Harry’s shoulder and rested his head there for a moment. As everything stilled, he brought his head back and gasped. “So he is the kind of man you'd go for then?”  
  
Harry’s expression was drawn tight in confusion. “If I were gay, maybe that’s the type of man I’d go for. He was kind to me, he spoke nicely to me, he was the only gay bloke I met besides you and he seemed…” He frowned, stumbling over his words. “You stuck needles in my body, you _raped_ and tortured me – can you honestly blame me for not wanting you to touch me? Yesterday morning you freaked out about a stripper who I _didn’t let touch me,_ who I went to for a lesson on how to please you and you left me by the fire with your _initial_ sewn into my cock!” He watched Draco flinch at the memory, _good,_ he thought, _let him feel some remorse at least…_  
  
“And as for letting him touch my stomach, I thought that would just be the politest thing to do – he’d just told me he couldn’t have kids, I could hardly refuse!” Why was Malfoy getting so angry? Did he honestly expect him to forgive everything in such a short amount of time? Did he think one selfless blow-job made a difference?  
  
 “Shut up! SHUT UP!” Draco shouted, hanging his head lower. He didn't _need_ to be reminded of what he had done to him only yesterday. Parting his lips, he grabbed Harry’s head and yanked it back hard. The fingers of his free hand held his face and he smashed their lips together. Harry groaned against him, trying to pull away, but there was no way out, just like this marriage. His battled his tongue in deep and Harry bit down on his tongue, hard, anything for him to stop.  
  
Draco pulled away quickly in pain, breathless from the kiss and Harry glared at him venomously. Frustrated, Draco tried again, but Harry was resisiting. “You can’t resist me!” Draco snarled, but there was doubt in his voice. He knew Harry was the only one that _could_ resist, and the cold irony was, he was the only one Draco had ever wanted. His eyes swelled with an emotion Harry had never seen before. Something that suggested he was on the edge of tears, but at the same time wanted to murder him. And then, there was that slight flicker of remorse.  
  
“I _can_ resist you,” Harry spat bitterly, smacking Draco _hard_ across the cheek, his arm quivering in aftermath of the blow. “After all the dirty, rotten things you’ve done to me, you’re hardly irresistible! I’m not one of your whores. And you don’t just get to say sorry _once_ and make it all go away!” he shoved Draco back roughly, glaring at him. “I’m carrying the bloody baby you wanted so badly, so have some bloody respect for what I’m suffering for you!”   
  
Clearly, calling their child _suffering_ was not the wisest of actions. Draco’s eyes, still glazed over with heartache looked livid all of a sudden. The blond forcibly calmed his breathing, he had to be careful with his temper.   
  
“Yes, that's my child in there, so I should be your second highest priority, especially over that prissy little pouf you just met, who was clearly fawning all over you!” Draco declared, his hands slamming down on the balcony either side of Harry. “I don't _want_ anyone else _touching you_ that way, or my baby! Got it?!”   
  
“It’s not like I _enjoyed_ it!” Harry declared, “I don’t like people touching me, or staring at me like I’m the big freak they’ve all been saying I was all along! He asked and he was…sweet, it as only for a moment you bloody lunatic!” He turned his head to the side, averting his gaze to the early evening air just over Draco’s shoulder. He didn’t ask for this. What more could Draco want? _He’s already got everything he ever wanted,_ Harry thought.  
  
He felt the arms caging him in at his words and he winced. “You promised you wouldn’t torture me anymore,” Harry said simply, his voice a little unsure though. Malfoy had broken promises before. He couldn’t trust him. Just because he wasn’t hitting him now, it didn’t mean that he wouldn’t. He could take his share of pain, after all he had been through, he wasn’t afraid of it, but he’d certainly like to avoid it where possible.  
  
“I don’t want anyone to touch me,” he insisted again, his voice quieter than before, but no less confident, “I won’t let them if that satisfies you, not me or _your_ baby.” That would probably appease him, he thought, still not meeting his eyes. Not because he was afraid, but because if he saw that mixture of heartbreak and anger in those eyes again it would only confuse him all the more…  
  
“Fine. But I'm not bloody torturing you!” Draco protested. “Or have you forgotten that only a few minutes ago, you hit me!” Draco was riling himself up again. He took hold of Harry and twisted him round quickly until he was leaning against the stone balustrade, tugging at he back of his trousers while he held his stuggling body down. “You may not want anyone touching you, but before you forget, we are married and until my baby is born you're _still_ mine!”  
  
“I hit you because you bloody deserved it!” Harry snarled placing his palms on the stone to try and protect his face and body from being shoved into the coarse railing. “And you can take my body as many times as you want, the contract won’t let me stop you – but I’ll never be yours! Not even your precious baby in my stomach will make me yours!” He gasped loudly, his fingers curling into the stone as Draco’s mouth found his neck, sucking harshly, as if in punishment and Harry swore he could _feel_ the bruise of the love-bite forming when Draco eventually drew back.  
  
His body tensed in both anxiety and anticipation as Draco’s lips tormented the back of his neck. He felt the blond inhale his hair every now and then, the hand that was not pinning him to the wall sliding down his back to dip between the valley of his cheeks through his trousers. “I’m not yours…!” Harry hissed between clenched teeth, slamming his eyes shut when Draco palmed his bum hungrily, squeezing one of his cheeks.  
  
 _He's never going to stop hating me,_ Draco thought bitterly, sadly. The hatred in those eyes, it just infuriated and wounded him all at once. _Never, even though I…I…_ To say he loved him, no to think it. It was _just_ … Lucius Malfoy would be ashamed.   
  
Draco’s obssesion for Harry, now more then ever seemed to be burning a hole in his soul. He had never felt this way, this pain throbbing in his chest, it was suffocating. Harry had made him angry, made him scream and burn and freeze all at once – always had done. _I can still make the most of him while I have him, he hates me either way and after our baby is born, he will leave,_ Draco thought. _I'll take what I can._  
  
“Until the baby is born you are mine!” Draco hissed again, “I-I know you will never be mine because you _want_ to be, I'm not a fool despite what you think!” He tugged Harry’s trousers down roughly and brought his underwear down with them. He sighed deeply, burying his emotions as deep as he could. “I – I don't care anyway. Spread your fucking legs open!”  
  
Harry winced at the evident heartache in that voice, at the pain running it ragged and husky, and he couldn't completely say (honestly) that that wasn't part of the reason that he didn't struggle. The contract was the main reason, but another, smaller part didn't believe Malfoy deserved this pain – whatever he'd done.  
  
He opened his legs slowly, bracing himself on the wall and tipped his head to rest on his forearms. He shuddered at the biting, cool air whisking over his lower body, his skin prickling with goosebumps.   
  
Draco leant in then, covering his shivering body with his own, hot with need and possessiveness. That hand smoothed over his bum again and his hips jerked back into the touch against his will.   
  
_Just until it's born,_ he thought, he could give Malfoy what he wanted until then, couldn't he? _I can't stop him until then anyway,_ he thought, his thoughts bitter despite how delicious those touches over his skin were. Warm and almost… _loving_ and doting like the night before. _Something is different,_ he thought, not for the first time, as Draco pressed in closer to breathe huskily in his ear. Draco’s tongue was as evil as ever and happy to take him with or without consent, but it was as if he were all bark and no bite.  
  
“Hmm, wider!” Draco purred, pushing his fingers between the cheeks carefully to hold the skin apart. He reached for his own trousers hurriedly and unbuckled his belt, then unzipped his fly and wriggled the trousers down to his ankles. He started to rub his hardened prick up against Harry’s backside slowly, tossing his head to the side at the sensations bolting through his loins. “Your arse wants me,” Draco whispered slyly, making sure Harry felt him rub his cock along his crack.  
  
The blond took a hold of Harry’s shoulders and pressed them into the wall as he moved his hips up against him, grinding into his firm cheeks. “Hmmm…!” His cold hands rolled slowly from those shoulders and down over Harry’s hips, tracing his curves to the bottom of his shirt and feeding back under it to molest his chest. As his fingers reached up to the already erect nubs, Draco pulled at them, making sure to pluck at Harry’s periced nipple a bit more gently than the other.  
  
Harry winced, though his nipple had healed from Draco’s torture of it yesterday morning, he still dreaded the repetition of that pain on the remaining pierced bud. But this…this _changed_ Draco was being almost gentle. He pressed his forehead hard into his arms that braced him against the wall, a low hiss escaping through his clenched teeth while his hips danced under the tender touches. Those fingers, they were hot and possessive, greedy for him and though his brain detested it, his body was writhing for it.   
  
“Y-You…why are you doing this?” He gasped out, disgusted with how husky with pleasure his voice sounded. Draco had given him pleasure last night without taking anything in return. Last night he’d thought it as sympathy, or perhaps (though he was unsure on why he needed it) the need to touch him, rather than take. So what was this now? Why was he still being…well…not gentle, but considerate in his touches, as if his pleasure mattered.  
  
“What do you mean, _why_?” Draco asked, breathing heavily in ear and over his neck. His fingers cricled round the erect nipples slowly, as if he was tickling him with his light touch. Every now and again he flicked at the buds, then went back to circling them, stroking them, squeezing them softly.  
  
“Hmm, what a silly question, I thought by now you would have worked that out,” Draco breathed, licking over his earlobe. Though Harry hadn't worked it out, he didn't have a clue. The blond giggled quietly into his ear. His hands ran back down over Harry’s hips then and around his front to where his cock was, rock hard and bobbing in the cool air.  
  
Harry flinched as that hand wrapped around his cock firmly, caressing it with long, leisurely strokes. “Hmm…ngghh!” He groaned, jaw clenched in half-hearted protest. _Why does it have to be him?!_ He cursed his body. _Why does_ he _have to know how to make me…make me…_  
  
“Oh… _Jesus Christ_!” He cried out, his skin buzzing with the onslaught of sensations. “Why…I don’t….I don’t want to feel like this for _you_ …!” He spat, not really intending for it to be said aloud. He felt so bitter and self-loathing. How could a body that could throw off the _Imperius curse_ , that could survive the _Killing curse_ surrender so easily under Draco Malfoy’s hungry hands? _Because he wants you,_ his mind told him, _because that desire makes him need you so badly. How could it not feel good?_  
  
He shook his head to himself, gasping out loudly, only to remember that there was a party going on inside. He needed to keep quiet, and he sank his teeth into his lip in his struggle to do so. “Y-You _want_ me!” Harry almost whimpered, again, not honestly intending to do so aloud, “That’s why you’re doing this. You want to possess me… _completely_ , you w-want me….to be yours…!”  
  
“S-Something like that,” Draco murmured, grasping that cock and pumping it rhythmically. Yes he wanted him, he always had, but it was more than that, he wanted Harry to relish in the fact that Draco wanted him and for Harry to want him in return. “Take your trousers off your legs,” Draco hissed and Harry kicked them off almost instantly. The blond grabbed his shoulder, turning him around to face him. He met Harry’s eyes for a fleeting moment but he couldn't read the emotion there at all. Resolved to make the most of what he had, Draco dived for those lips again, taking them hungrily and lifting Harry’s legs up around him.  
  
The blond licked his index finger, covering it in saliva and running it around his husband’s hot, twitching hole. “I want to come in here,” He admitted huskily.  
  
Harry flushed darkly. He had protested every time that Draco use a condom, but the way he had said it just said that…it had not only sounded as close to a request as a Malfoy could get, but it had sent quivers down his spine. He turned his head to the side to avoid those eyes, always too awkward to look when they were so intimately entwined. It felt strange.  
  
Those lips traced the shape of his jaw, the way he ( _Merlin_ help him) _liked_ , riding up the sharp curve of it to worry his earlobe between those teeth. He gasped again, the feel of that hot breath in his ear making his cock arch up into his belly, regardless of the cold. He didn’t want to respond to Draco like this, but it was impossible not to, when the arsehole knew his every weakness. _He knows where it feels good, like I’m…like I’m his_ lover _or something!_  
  
“No...” He cried out quietly, when that soaked finger breeched his tight ring of muscles, groping inside for the pleasure spot that would make his brain _melt_ into uselessness. He found it all too easily and Harry jerked into his stomach, seeing (out of the corner of his eye) a far too pleased, far too _blissful_ look in Draco’s eyes. _He likes it better when I react?_ He wondered.  
  
“O-Only…only if I’m the only one…!” He managed out through clenched teeth, not one-hundred percent sure his reasoning for it were solely because of what he might catch. “N-Nobody _else_ …!” Why couldn’t he form a coherent sentence with that finger inside him? With that mouth laying open, hungry kisses to his throat. If Draco wanted to come in him, then he would have to sacrifice his _adventurous_ lifestyle. That was the only thing he seemed to have control over, after all. He _wanted_ that control.  
  
 _You've always been the only one,_ Draco thought, though he didn't dare tell him, but he had only ever bragged about being with others, most of the time. “If you're the only one what? What do I get?” Draco asked intrigued, his heart set ablaze as those lips trembled with short, groaning responses. He tugged his finger from that tight hole, feeling it clench around him, as if it wanted him back.   
  
He tickled his way slowly under Harry’s legs and over his balls, fondling them carefully while his other hand reached back around him and palmed his prick. It swelled, pink and hard in the heat of his hand. “You feel so hard in my hand, I just… I just want you, so… _bad_!” He breathed, tugging at his cock a little rougher, the skin sliding down so easily with every stroke.  
  
Harry shuddered, every breath passing the blond’s lips still steaming over his ear, driving him to distraction. _Yes,_ he wanted to pant out, but in all good conscience, could not. _Sex shouldn’t be this complicated,_ he thought bitterly, his last coherent thought, _if I like it, I should be able to enjoy it…without feeling so_ guilty, so treacherous. _He keeps saying I’m his bloody husband, I should take advantage of it!_  
  
And then his mind was drowned in the sea of sensations, as the pad of Draco’s thumb smoothed over his weeping head. He bit down on his lip, struggling to stay silent as his eyes glazed over with wet pleasure and he grinded wantonly into Draco’s touches. “ _Me!_ ” He gasped, “You get me…you get to _cum in me_!” He answered at last, testing the waters of this new ‘kindness’ Draco was exhibiting, testing the boundaries of his control. “I’ll…I’ll _fuck_ you, that’s what you want isn’t it? Instead of me just lying back and letting you?” He swore by now that Draco had placed some sort of privacy charm around them when he was distracted, he was panting too loudly _not_ to be overheard.   
  
Draco’s heart stopped in his chest and his head flicked to the side. “Yeah, that’s – that’s what I want,” He murmured, though the expression that went with those words didn’t connect. Why did he look… _sad?_  
  
Finally he brought his head up again and gazed into Harry’s eyes while he began to stroke his cock again, and Harry was finding it hard to decide which was the stronger force here, his fear or his pleasure. How could _any_ situation, any decision like this be simple when here Draco was, his tormentor and yet, holding him, _wanting_ him as nobody had ever wanted him before?  
  
The blond pulled Harry’s body close, holding his legs around him, touching him madly, wantonly. He couldn't _stop_ touching. “Merlin, I want you,” He admitted, at the same time feeling Harry’s body shiver against him. “I'll fuck you,” He murmured, agreeing to Harry’s offer. His hands hurried to take one of Harry’s, wrapping it around his neglected member carefully. “Touch me?”  
  
Harry stared at him, his eyes glazed over with confused, dizzy ecstasy and he panted heavily, his breath coming out as steam in the cool night. Draco’s voice, and his eyes, they were all too…intensely passionate. _He loves me,_ Harry realised, _in his own, bizarre way._ And so he reached around, running his fingers over Draco’s neck, caressing the silky strands hanging loose there. It had grown a lot since Hogwarts, now hanging nearly to his shoulders, only it was neatly tied back usually. He considered those eyes for a moment, considered the sheer amount of _want_ within, before pulling that mouth down to his. His tongue stole inside, mapping the boy’s tongue hotly and groaned into his kiss.  
  
“Fuck me,” Harry panted as he drew back from the kiss wetly, saliva connecting their mouths together still for a few moments. He felt a second finger slip in to spread him wide and his eyes fluttered shut in awkwardness. It was still so bizarre, enjoying being touched there. “That still feels strange,” he said, his mouth running away from his brain. “But good…I s’pose…” What was he saying? It’s forbidden, he realised, that’s why it felt so good…  
  
Draco shuddered under Harrys hot confessions, those words dancing dazzlingly through his body, sending jolts of static pleasure down his spine. “Hmm, you want me inside you you?” Draco murmured, needing to hear it, sliding his fingers teasingly into that hole. “Your arse is clenching around my fingers – _twitching_ ,” Draco hissed, his tongue darting out over his lip, licking along them in slow seduction.   
  
Draco bent down then, his fingers still pleasuring the entrance to that body as he licked along his husbands thigh, dribbling a hot, wet trail up to the throbbing shaft. “Hmmm, so hard,” He grumbled, mouthing the swollen flesh generously.  
  
Harry’s body jerked backwards, his head pressing into the wall as his legs trembled, Draco’s free hand smoothing up the back of a milky thigh and squeezing his cheek, fingering his hole teasingly. He felt that saliva slicking his hole, heard it make those embarrassing wet noises. His own fingers reached forwards, hesitantly stroking the back of Draco’s head. He was encouraged, however, when Draco made a low humming noise at the touch, opening his mouth to take his swollen erection into the heat of his mouth.  
  
Harry gasped, the sound a high-pitched wheeze and he shut his eyes defiantly, unable to look at what was happening. _Did_ he want Draco inside of him? _Do you trust him enough to be inside of you, and to stop if you ask?_ He wondered. There was no other way to know for sure except…  
  
“I – I want it… _I think_ …”  
  
Draco hummed deeply again, the vibrations sliding along the thick girth of his cock and making his body quiver fiercely. _So good_. “I want you…in my arse.”  
  
Draco grinned seductively, he swore a wave of shudders coursed over him each time Harry said he wanted it, or was liking it. “ _Oh Merlin_ ,” He groaned, his fingers grasping at Harry’s bum and pushing him deeper into his own mouth. Saliva splashed over the tip when he pulled out, Harry’s cock jerking as if wanting to be back in.  
  
He licked a trail down the delicious vein on the underside of Harry’s cock, spreading those legs to continue his path underneath. Slowly he dabbed his tongue at the opening, working his way into the cavern of that winking slit. “So tight!” Draco hissed, struggling to touch those sweltering insides with his damp muscle.  
  
“Oh…Oh _God_!” Harry hissed, his fingers tightening in Draco’s hair, unsure whether he was encouraging him or trying to pull him away. Either way, Draco thrived under the contact. “I… _Yes…lick it_!” Harry panted, his free hand reaching up to pluck at his pierced nipple teasingly. He was _not_ humping Draco’s invasive tongue, not grinding into him as the blond’s thumb reached up to press into his leaking slit. “L-Lick it – more! T-Tell me…tell me you like…like how I taste!” Harry groaned. _Why_ was he saying such things? What was Draco doing to him? He _didn’t_ want to enjoy this, much less _thrive_ in it so insatiably.   
  
“Hmm, you taste…delicious,” Draco gasped into him, so ready to give Harry anything he could ask for if he could just have _this_. “So fucking hot!” Draco groaned into that puckered hole hungrily. He breathed heatedly against the hole with his following words. “You want me inside here, hmmm?” He felt Harry tense around his tongue tightly. “You like my hot tongue in you after all?” Draco teased. But didn't push his luck, this Harry, the one whom was liking it, it made him feel amazing and he wanted to keep that as long as he could.   
  
Harry winced, letting out a stifled moaned. “D-Don't hold _back_! I…I cast a spell, no one will hear us.”  
  
Harry flushed, a groan that sounded dangerously close to a nervous laugh leaving his lips as he dared to look down, seeing Draco Malfoy’s face, his mouth working between his legs. “I-It’s nice…” Harry murmured unsurely, reaching down to wrap his hand around Draco’s – the one around his cock, and helped it to glide smoothly along his shaft, tugging the foreskin down the way he liked it. “It should be… _disgusting_ but it’s…” His words failed him then, though he was not sure why. Hadn’t Draco said it before? No one was ever going to know but them…  
  
 _Why am I so ashamed to enjoy it_? He asked himself, even as he pushed back into the (now _three_ ) digits spreading his tight hole wide. _Because he’s a man, or because he’s Draco Malfoy? Or because I’m Harry Bloody Potter, and I’m meant to settle down with a nice young girl and get married and have…_ He cut himself off there, his thoughts swallowed by the mouth licking inside him devilishly, thanks to the way he was being opened.  
  
But he had got married, and was (however bizarrely) having babies, even if it was all against his will, and it was to someone that had tortured him? But no one else seemed to have a problem with _who_ he was with, no one except him – _and probably Ron,_ he added mentally. So why did this have to be so…difficult? Why did the one person to make him feel wanted have to have hurt him so badly?  
  
He felt his muscles stretch in that forbidden, delicious way, felt himself open and he groaned through clenched teeth. “Don’t…!” He gasped, turning his head away, “Don’t make me…make noises….!”  
  
“But your noises make me so hard!” Draco gasped, his tongue still circling that slick ring. “Hmm, you're softening up,” Draco murmured, his breath shooting up into the space where his silky tongue seperated the skin.   
  
Draco brought his palm up them, licking over it until it was dripping with fluid and reached down to his own cock, slicking it up carefully. Stumbling to his feet, he pressed his wet fingers back inside Harry, his intense eyes capturing Harry’s once more. “I'm going to take you now,” He said, lifting Harry up against the wall so his legs locked around his back and clung to him, pulling him in for what was about to happen,  
  
Harry wrapped his arms around the blond’s shoulders awkwardly to steady himself, his greedy cock trapped between his and Draco’s stomachs. “G-Go…go steady,” Harry tried, wondering if Draco would actually listen this time, he seemed to be being… _nice_ , so far. His only answer was a darkly amorous look, before Draco leant in, sliding his lips across his to swallow the gasp that inevitably left his mouth at the moment his body was breached.  
  
Harry let out a long, shallow groan, his nails scraping over Draco’s pale shoulders at the initial stretching discomfort. “Slow down,” He murmured quietly, probably pushing his luck, but he could only try, and it was a test to see just how much Draco had changed in any case. His muscles clenched around the invasion spasmodically, and he struggled to relax, letting Draco touch every hot, _smouldering_ crevice of his mouth, gasping into the feel of the devious tongue.  
  
Draco slowed his movements a little, his voice breathless as he said, “A-Alright, whatever you want.” Slowly the end of his purple prick pressed against the saliva drenched hole, pushing it's way through as Draco undulated against him. This was so intense, more so than before. Draco dipped his head into Harry’s neck and nibbled gently, his hot mouth sliding wetly over the skin around his collarbone.   
  
“Hmm, so tight, so hot…!” Draco hissed licking inside that ear when he reached it and dampening it madly with his lust. “Hmm, your bum is pulling me in deeper…”  
  
Harry jerked at the hot breath in his ear, moaning quietly, relaxing his walls around the thick, aching hardness that slid slowly inside him. “Stop a sec!” He gasped as Draco’s hips pressed flush against his own, his cock lodged as deep inside of him as he could go. And to his credit Draco stopped, focusing instead on bathing his neck with gentle bites, bruising him softly, and drawing a low cry from Harry’s lips each time.   
  
“M-My nipple…!” Harry ground out, loathing the tone of his voice but loving the sensations, despite what his conscience thought of that. He leant in, pressing his pierced bud up to Draco’s mouth. “Lick it! _Lick it_!”  
  
 _Don’t sound so desperate for him_! His mind spat, but he paid it no heed. He felt his body adjust then, swallowing Draco eagerly and he shifted experimentally around him, a low sound leaving his lips. “Lick my nipple…?!” He panted again, feeling Draco chuckle against his skin.  
  
Draco grinned slyly. “Lick it, eh? Beg me for it.” His voice was a low, rumbling purr as he spread those cheeks wider and rocked slowly in and out of that body, groaning deeply against that skin. His mouth bathed every inch of flesh it could reach.  
  
His tongue met his pectorals, slowly licking over the skin around the nipple he had harmed the other day, as if apologising while waiting for Harry’s answer. He prompted him into answering with another deep movement inside, his foreskin tugging back deliciously with the frivtion. “Hmm…you're pinching me…”  
  
“Hmmh! My nipple, lick it, _please_ …!” Harry demanded, the last word a low, whispering hiss. Draco obliged then, thrusting slowly up into that hot, mouth-watering body. Since he was eleven years old he’d never desired anything more. He swept his tongue over the pierced bud, tweaking the piercing teasingly so that Harry squirmed and tightened around him. The _Chosen One’s_ fingers carded through his blond locks, tugging and caressing and massaging his scalp fitfully.   
  
“You like fucking the man who’s carrying your baby, Malfoy?” Harry hissed, not sure why he said it, just that he _knew_ Malfoy wanted to hear it, his words rewarded with a sharp thrust up into his special spot that made his cock drool. “Y-You do – don’t you? F-Filling me – _completely,_ you bloody love it!”  
  
Draco’s eyes darkened with a new kind of pleasure, Harry’s word's were like the smoothest of silk to his ears despite the bitter tone they were whispered in. “Yes, I do,” He spoke simply, his voice slightly shaky. “I love to shove my cock between your thighs, against your skin, and take you so deeply you forget everything else.”  
  
What was this, this Harry he was seeing, loving, needing right now? He slid his fingers between them as they moved together, touching Harry’s stomach tenderly. “That life inside you, we made that life,” His eyes seemed to sparkle when he looked back at Harry. “I-I'll protect it,” He murmured, to Harry’s absolute confusion.   
  
The eager thrusts up into him shoved aside the confusion of the blond’s words. Harry wouldn’t come to find out just what Draco meant by _protect it_ , for some time…  
  
“Yesss…!” Harry hissed, clenching his slippery hole tightly around Draco’s thick arousal. He swayed his hips with sensuous gyrations into the thrusts, his legs aching from the tenseness in his limbs. “O-Over…!” He struggled out, clenching his eyes shut to drink in the sensations assaulting his body, Draco’s hands caressing him everywhere they could reach without dropping him. “Over the – the grab rail…!” He stuttered, a gasp of part surprise, part negation leaving him as Draco withdrew. The blond seized his shoulders then, drowning him with open-mouthed, hungry kisses over his face and neck while he turned.   
  
Draco’s hands slid down his chest and stomach, ghosting over his flesh in the way that made him shudder while Harry grabbed the elaborate stone guard rail and bent over, wriggling impatiently. _When did I become so desperate for this?_ He asked himself, one hand running softly down his spine as the other helped Draco’s weeping prick to find his loose hole. _No one has ever wanted me this badly, or made me feel so good that I’m delirious…but it’s still Malfoy,_ he thought, _I can never trust him enough to love him the way he wants me too…not after all he has done…_  
  
And that was what was missing from this.  
  
The swollen head popped through his loose ring and he groaned in appreciation as it slid along his slick channel, rubbing him in just the right place to make him buck back into Draco’s hips, swallowing him whole.   
  
Draco eyed up Harry’s perfectly shaped back, drinking him in as he rammed deep inside. His head hung forwards against Harry’s shoulders and he inhaled the musky scent of his skin, hazy with need. “Ahh, touch your cock, rub it!” Draco panted, his fingernails digging into those hips. “Why with you…why is it like this…w-with you? So hot…so…want you!” He felt like he was losing his sense of self, his grip on reality, but it was worth it. This, it felt like everything he had dreamt about since they had met.  
  
 _I have him for this moment, and he seems to want me. Even if it's lies, I'll take it. It's better than any of the times I have forced him and I don't want to lose this…_  
  
“Come on, Harry, act like the slut I love, like that night when you gave me that lap-dance. Tell me you love this. Tell me you love me?!” Draco groaned, closing his eyes against the torrent of emotion.  
  
Harry flinched then, dropping his forehead onto the arm bracing him on the rail, hiding his eyes and sinking his teeth into his mouth to silence himself as he reached down, stroking himself with hard, fast jerks. His euphoria was gone. He wanted this over now. Draco’s words were like a slap in the face. _That lap dance_ , he thought, wincing as if the pleasure coursing through his body were causing him pain.   
  
He had all-but forgotten the torture in his delirium, but he had _completely_ forgotten about what had caused it. He had tried to seduce him, tried to show him how to pleasure him without hurting him, how to be closer, physically at least – and he’d been tortured in the most foul way imaginable for all his efforts…  
  
Tears pricked at the backs of his eyes, as spiteful as pins. _Dirty, rotten slut,_ his mind spat, _forgetting who you’re dealing with. Giving into him so easily. You’ve broken, you’ve become his plaything, just like he said you would…_  
  
“No…!” He whined, quietly, stroking himself faster, desperate now to end this and put some distance between them. He didn’t want Malfoy to touch him, didn’t want him to say he loved him. He didn’t want Draco to have those feelings, because if he did, he was human, he was a person, not just the face of his torturer. And it was easier to cope when he only had his own pain to worry about…  
  
“No…No…”  
  
“Ahh, f-fuck!” Draco gasped, still moving inside, the sounds of their bodies meeting blocking out all else, even Harry’s whispering cries for him to stop. His hands danced over those hips again, tickling the backs of his legs tenderly.   
  
“No!” Harry cried again, only louder this time and the blond slowed. Still moving as he opened his eyes and looked at his lover who wasn't reacting the way he liked anymore. Panting for breath, Draco trembled, his words slipping carelessly over his lips . “W-Why? Your arse wants me, _you want_ me. Why should I stop when you're loving every bit of this?”  
  
Harry let his body slump uselessly. “Fuck me then,” He whispered, resigned, though in Draco’s ears it must have sounded like need, because the blond was pounding him again. Harry winced, releasing his member when Draco’s hand reached around to fist him determinedly. He wanted no part in this, he wanted to be nothing more than a convenient hole.   
  
“Cum,” He gasped out, _just cum already_ , he mentally added, wanting this over with. _Please_ Merlin, _let him finish already._ He hadn’t been this disgusted with himself since the first night…  
  
“Hmm, why such a rush? It's always better to prolong the climax,” Draco said, not realising Harry’s change in attitude. Draco threw his head back then with a cry of ecstasy. It felt so good, so tight. “Tell me how much you like it, hmm?” Draco hissed, reaching his other hand under him and back along his stomach, caressing the flat muscles and the sensitive skin around his navel. He frowned when Harry shoved his hand away. “What’s the matter with you? You let that man touch you and you're still resisting me, even now, when you begged for it. When I’m _inside you?_ ” Draco asked almost incoherent with the pleasure and heartache warring inside him, and his hand was shoved away a second time.  
  
“Please,” Harry dry-sobbed into his arms, loathing the hurt in Malfoy’s voice. “Please, just cum…”  
  
Malfoy pulled out of him roughly then with a snarl, seizing him by the shoulder and whirling him round to face him. Harry turned his head to the side, cursing the tears gathering at his lashes. Blood wept through his lip where he had chewed it so hard and he steeled himself to end this, so that he could escape this situation. He dropped to his knees quickly, seizing Draco’s cock at the base and swiping his tongue over the leaking head, once, twice before diving down over it. He could taste himself on it, and that only disgusted himself more.  
  
 _Dirty slut, just like he said,_ he thought scathingly at himself, sucking the erection in his mouth heartily, all the more to try and coax him to climax.   
  
Draco groaned, a dizzying flood of bittersweet pleasure rushing through his shaft as Harry’s hot mouth worked his flesh. Harry winced, taking the swollen prick deep into his throat. Then the blond looked down over those damp, fluttering lashes. “You don't want this? Why the sudden change? And why are you bloody crying?” Draco snapped. He pushed Harry back with both hands, and his climax built despite the shift in mood. “C-Cumming!” He groaned, fury reigning his orgasm as he drew back quickly, his cock jerking up and splattering Harry’s face with spurts of white, sticky semen.  
  
Letting his temper loose, he swatted Harry’s face roughly, his ring catching that tender lip. His body shook with confused rage. It had been so perfect a mere moment ago, why had Harry changed so drastically? “What the bloody hell is wrong with you?!”  
  
Harry laughed bitterly, shoving Draco off of him and scrambling backwards, using the guard rail as assistance to pull him to his feet. “ _You_ are what’s wrong with me,” Harry retorted his voice dangerously quiet as he gingerly touched his fingers to his split lip, wincing in pain. He thought he saw some regret flash between Draco’s eyes, but he wasn’t sure. Regret meant nothing, in any case, if the blond would only repeat his assault, time after time.   
  
_He can be nice when is suits him,_ Harry thought, _but only when he wants to. My wants mean nothing._  
  
“Not very fatherly, smacking your husband about with your child inside of him. Is it really worth me carrying it at all if you’re going to _beat_ it out of me!” He shook his head, _willing_ the self-loathing tears away. “I don’t…I don’t want to be this… I don’t want to be some…some _slut_. That’s what I am to you, aren’t I? Just another whore? And I can’t…I can’t be – I don’t _like_ giving into you, changing into what you wanted me to be all along… I’ve lost myself, I’ve lost my pride and my _soul_ and become some…some Malfoy trophy slut and I…” His voice trailed into nothingness.  
  
Draco darted towards him, his hands pinning his shoulders down with fury, with _hurt_ , with _frustration_ boiling his blood. He suddenly raised his fist again, shaking with adrenaline as held it there, gazing down at him. His gaze was dark and his heart was racing, but Harry simply raised his chin, as if daring him to strike.   
  
He couldn't understand why he was feeling this way. But Harry was right, he couldn't keep pushing him around while he had his child inside him, and he didn't want to, he realised it was wrong, he knew what he was doing wasn't nice. He had felt it, what Harry was feeling now, and he had hated who he had become, so similar to someone he hated himself. He bit down on his lip in disgust as a rush of memories flew through his mind. He slowly lowered his arm.  
  
Grey, stormy eyes glistened then and Draco closed them, covering them with his hand as he stepped back from Harry, turning to head back through the doorway. But as he reached the threshold, he paused, the party continuing just inside as if it were a doorway to another world, so very different from here and now.  
  
“Just because I called you a slut in a moment of passion doesn't make you any less _mine_ , and it doesn't mean that you're like all the _others_.” That had probably come out wrong but he had meant to say sorry. Though that word he didn't know right now, couldn’t force through the heavy weight of his pride clogging his throat. “I – I can't be around you right now,” he said suddenly and with that he bolted inside, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts.  
  
Harry stared after him for a moment, before reaching for his fallen garments and pulling them on quickly, his head spinning with dizziness. He felt so…so _fatigued_ – was that emotional exhaustion, or a pregnancy symptom or…or both? He didn’t know anymore, and he didn’t care, either.  
  
 _I wish I could give him his precious baby now and get away,_ he thought wretchedly, disgusted with himself for hating his own unborn child so much, but he did. Because he couldn’t hate Draco, no matter what he did, but this child, who had no emotions or physical feelings that he could see, it was an easier target for his resentment and hatred. But that very fact, only made him loath himself all the more.  
  
He snuck around the edges of the party, avoiding everyone’s gaze, creeping away and up the main landing. He stopped then, not knowing where to go. He didn’t want to go back to his and Draco’s quarters, not sure he felt entirely safe there, or that he wanted to see Draco when he was…emotional. Not sure he wanted to see _anyone_ when he hated himself this much.  
  
He decided on the upper drawing room nearest the stairwell and moved across the landing to the second door on the right. It was cool inside. Narcissa had used this room earlier but the fire in the hearth had begun dying since and was now a mere orange glow in the ash. Closing the door behind him softly, he moved over to the settee by the waning fire, curling up on it and pulling his robes around himself tightly. It was cold, and he shivered lightly, but did not move.   
  
When had he become so vile and bitter? When had he become the kind of person that would hate an unborn child – especially his own. When had he become the kind of person to _hate_ at all? He didn’t want to be this person, he realised as he closed his eyes, willing it all away, slipping into a fitful, unsettled slumber, plagued with bitter cold and exhaustion. He only prayed that he woke up a better man than he was now.  
  
* * *  
  
As night fell, the party had long been over and the freezing temperatures outside had risen, there was no more warmth in the air as Harry shivered in his struggle to sleep. There were moments where he relaxed and drifted a little, but feeling much too uneasy, he would jerk awake again at every strange noise or flickering shadow.  
  
Harry flinched as a looming shadow stretched across the room, he could barely make sense of the shape with his sleep-distorted vision but it was all-too clear that someone was lurking in the doorway. He tensed up and froze, his heart seemed to have halted right there in his chest. But then his eyes flickered and the shadow was gone. Breathing heavily, he sank back in the chair. This felt so uncomfortable and despite everything with Draco, the companionship he gave at times, the painful similarities in their positions – they made him feel safer than the darkness of this cold, lonely room.  
  
 _He’s just as controlled, as trapped here as I am,_ he thought, jerking upright as the door creaked open wider. This time, however, Draco entered. The blond groaned, his eyes weary. “Harry? What are you doing? Trying to kill our – _my child_?!” He corrected himself quickly. “It's bloody freezing in here. Are you some sort of idiot?”  
  
Harry sat up slowly, his neck and his head throbbing from where he had curled up and shivered continuously for – however long he had been here. “Where did you expect me to go? You said you didn’t want to see me – this is your house, and I sleep in _your_ bloody bed. Nothing here is mine, so I opted for as neutral ground as I could find,” he explained moodily, rubbing the back of his neck with a wince, the pain spiralling down his back.   
  
“And if by staying down here I am killing _your_ child then I’m only finishing the job you started earlier,” he sneered. “I don’t want to talk to you unless you’re offering an apology.”  
  
Draco growled at him. His words stung him, but he felt too drained to argue. What was more, if he did he knew he would end up getting angry and he didn’t want to make things any worse than they already were. Sighing exasperatedly, he flicked his wand, summoning the spare quilt from the cupboard in the corner and tossing it to Harry. “This must be those pregnancy hormones kicking in, hmm?” He said, forcing a smile.   
  
“Look, I have a headache, if – if you want to come to bed at any point you can. I just needed some time to think and…” He cut off there, realising whatever he had to say would just fly right over Harry’s head. _Why am I even bothering? He doesn't want to know!_  
  
“On second thoughts, just stay here, there are more quilts in the cupboard if you need them, make sure you stay warm.”  
  
Harry dragged the duvet off his head, staring at the rich greens and silvers of the material as he wrapped it around his shoulders, not really sure what to say. “Thanks, I s’pose,” he mumbled, before chancing a glance upwards. Harry’s tongue swept across his dry lips as he saw those eyes focused on him and winced at the feel of the cut from earlier.  
  
“H-How…how long were you standing there watching me?” He asked, instead of what he really wanted to say, still feeling the shiver that _other_ presence incited caress his spine eerily. “I saw…saw something…watching me in the doorway.” He saw Draco’s brow tip up in confusion then though, and he knew it hadn’t been him. _Draco would have admitted it if it were him_ , he realised, getting shakily to his feet, the duvet still wrapped around him.   
  
Why did he feel so bloody knackered?  
  
“I wasn't watching you, I just came straight in here from bed, _worrying about you!_ ” He said flippantly, but Harry’s words disturbed him and he glanced towards the open door cautiously, as if expecting to see the culprit standing there. He sat on the end of the settee for a moment, his hair hanging into his eyes as though it were a shield.   
  
“I don't… I didn't mean to… The things that I have done to you, they were…” He swallowed hard, struggling to find the words he needed to even begin to redeem himself. It felt like choking on thin air. _Why couldn't he just bloody say it already?!_  
  
“They were cruel, vile, I never, _never_ meant for it to go that far.” Though it wasn't really an apology it was close. Close for Draco anyway, who had never apologised for anything in his life. But it was still probably not enough to convince his husband. “And I'm sorry – sorry for you that is, that you've ended up with me in this situation.” He looked at Harry closely then, his grey eyes sad even as he forced a smile. “But you can leave in nine months, that’s a promise I intend to keep.”  
  
Harry felt a stab at his heart at the look in those eyes, at the way that smile faltered on Draco’s face. He inhaled shakily, looking away before that expression broke his resolve. “I believe you,” he said simply, not knowing what else to say, tugging the blanket around him a little tighter, his stomach quivering menacingly. And he wondered if it was because of that eerie _other_ presence or because of the morning sickness.  
  
He staggered on his feet a bit as he moved to the door, looking back unsurely at Draco. He couldn’t trust him, couldn’t accept the apology as heartily as he wished to, not so soon. But that didn’t stop him appreciating the effort. “I…I’ll go sleep on your settee, I suppose – warmer there,” he reasoned, not saying the truth, that he was _sure_ there had been someone else there, watching him.  
  
“Alright, but tomorrow you're in our bed, whether I'm in it with you or not, right?” He asked, his tone a little nagging. Harry seemed utterly confused by this sudden concern, but nodded anyway. Standing from the couch, Draco approached Harry and reached for his face, but Harry flinched away and his touch never quite reached. Draco felt his insides twist painfully at the uncertainty, the panic in Harry’s face. “I don't want you to be scared of me. I don't. I know you don't think that, but I – being scared of someone you should be able to trust is something that I understand, and I never wanted you to feel that with me.” Draco stopped there, he was making things worse and saying far too much. Revealing far too much. “I’ll meet you upstairs,” He said, gesturing for Harry to head on without him. “I’ll see you in the morning.”  
  
  
 _~To Be Continued_


	11. Your Child

  
[Eleven]  
 **Your Child**  
  
  
Harry winced, his back and his neck aching like he’d never known as he pulled his blanket around himself tighter, curling up a bit more to preserve heat. His lashes fluttered as he opened his eyes slowly, reaching blindly across the nightstand for his glasses – except there was no nightstand. He sat up a little straighter, remembering where he was and reached for his glasses on the low table in front of the couch instead.  
  
His world slid into focus and he stretched slowly, flinching at the strain to his muscles and the roiling in his stomach. His gut lurched then and he leapt to his feet, flying through the bedroom door and bolting into the adjoining bathroom, throwing himself down by the loo just in time to lurch up everything left in his stomach into the toilet bowl.   
  
“Jesus Christ,” he griped huskily, resting his head on the (thankfully clean) toilet seat, closing his eyes and waiting for the world to stop spinning. He heard the bathroom door open a little, but didn’t need to look up to know who it was. “Morning,” he grumbled when he felt Draco’s presence behind him, sweat running across his forehead as he panted lightly.  
  
“A-Are you alright?!” Draco asked alarmed. He rushed over to the sink and ran some cold water, wetting a flannel and sitting Harry back slowly. He looked awkward and somewhat apprehensive of Harry’s reaction as he dabbed slowly at that scarred forehead and neck. After he looked a bit more stable, he offered a glass of water, which Harry downed without a word.  
  
Staring at his husband thoughtfully a moment, Draco struggled to find the words that Harry would most like to hear. “Do you…errr, need anything?” Draco forced out. Harry looked straight through him, like he wasn't even there for a moment. “I do appreciate what you're doing for me – what you're going through for me to keep this baby… So I suppose…just thanks.”  
  
Harry looked up at him from his place on the floor, considering his sincere expression for a moment, before carefully handing him back the glass. Never since this had begun had Draco shown appreciation for how difficult it was for him, how much _more_ difficult and painful it would become. Pain he could handle, he was no stranger to it, but Draco’s _thanks_ appeased his bitterness – at least somewhat.  
  
“It’s…” He began, but was not sure where he was going with this next. ‘You’re welcome’ and ‘it’s alright’ were not exactly what he was looking for. Instead, he just nodded and climbed to his feet shakily, moving over to the sink to wash his hands and face. He set his palms on the marble basin, hanging his head low for a moment to recover, feeling Draco still in the room.   
  
“You seem to want it badly,” Harry said at last, raising his chin to look at Draco in the reflection of the mirror. “I…I couldn’t take it away from you.” Draco was watching him carefully, and Harry, steadier on his feet now, turned to face him properly. “Why _do you_ want it so badly? You never told me.”   
  
Draco froze then, his eyes wide as he looked to the side awkwardly. “I…” His blond locks fell into his eyes. “Well…I…” He sighed, he didn't really know what to say or how to answer him. Not without it bringing up more questions. “I need it. I need to do the things for it that it deserves. I can't really… I just…I want to give it the life it deserves, the life I never had.” _And it’s part of you as well as me, a part I can hold onto_ , he added mentally.  
  
Harry could barely believe he had said that. Though it wasn't really an answer, hearing Draco say those things, it made it seem so much more likely that Draco was two different men instead of one. _This_ Draco, he seemed so human and fragile and sad…  
  
“I see,” Harry said, feeling ridiculous, and even more disgusted with himself. “Of course it's normal to want your own child anyway, I'm the one who… Sorry that I asked,” he finished, moving over to the bath to run the taps, desperate to try and rid his back and neck of some of it's tenderness.  
  
“Are you alright?” Draco asked when Harry moved too quickly and flinched, not having moved from his spot.  
  
Harry nodded, stripping out of his clothes from yesterday (that he had fallen asleep in) and waiting for the bath to fill. Draco was staring at his nakedness, he didn't really care at this point. The blond may as well make good of his appearance while it lasted, because his body would start changing soon. For the worst, Harry thought with a grimace.  
  
“I'm fine,” he assured Draco, watching the coloured bath fluids foam over the surface invitingly. “My…my back hurts after that night on the settee that's all.” He felt Draco move closer then and raised his head as he slid to the rim of the sunken tub, dipping his feet into the hot water.  
  
 Draco took a nearby sponge and dabbed it in the hot water. Leaning over Harry, he began to wash over his shoulders and his tender back. He wasn't sure why he was doing this but he felt this need, this burning desire to look after him, to do something to make his life easier. “You are sleeping in our bed tonight, with or without me, no arguments!” Draco hissed, brushing the soft, soapy sponge carfully along his back as Harry sank forwards into the water. He felt Harry flinch against his touch, and that made him feel ashamed all over again, sick with himself.  
  
“Are you really that scared of me?” Draco asked, his voice choked. What had he done? He had created that exact thing he once was… _still_ was…  
  
“I'm not afraid of you,” Harry corrected him, trying to tell his body he didn't like be pampered or caressed or loved, but his body wasn't listening, his body was greedy, pining for Draco to continue. “I just… I'm not sure of you,” he explained, turning the taps off now that the bath was full and sliding into the welcoming, soothing suds.  
He leant against the wall of the tub, his back to Draco, staring quietly at the surface of the water and the ripples his entry had created.  
  
“You must put some sort of muscle relaxant potion in the bath oils,” Harry said conversationally, bringing his hand up to the back of his neck to rub it, wincing at the knots there. For a moment, Draco said nothing in answer and so Harry sighed exhaustedly, arranged the bubbles around his body to cover himself (eased by the cover and the small distance between them now).  
  
“Y-You can…you can rub my…my shoulders for me – if you want anyway,” he added. Draco seemed to want to help somehow, wanted to take responsibility and appease his, Harry’s bad temper somewhat. He would give him the chance to earn his trust, he supposed, even though he knew it would be hard-won.   
  
“I'm pleased. that you're…not scared,” Draco said, an odd, weak smile reaching his lips as he carefully rubbed his husband’s shoulders, realising he was being tested again. The soap smoothed over that honey-hued skin, drizzling down over his shoulders wetly. “Will you come out with me later?” Draco asked, though he wasn't sure if he was pushing too far, too fast. “It's just that I…I wanted to go and buy some things we will need. I know the baby isn't due for months and months, it's just good, apparently to stock up on some things early and–” He stopped, realising Harry’s head had sunk so low it was almost submerged in the water.  
  
He had pushed too hard. Too far. Too fast.  
  
“Just forget it then, you can stay here,” Draco amended, before Harry had even replied.  
  
Harry whirled in the water to face him then, frowning a little. “I'm sorry. It's just all too soon,” he explained, his body cursing him for frightening those soothing hands away. “It's only been three days, I don't think I can…handle it yet.”   
  
Why couldn't Draco understand? He was trying his hardest to cope, but it seemed the only ways he could please everyone else left him loathing himself afterwards. But he never expected anything different for his future, he supposed. Nine months, he thought, a vile taste coming into his mouth at the thought. _Nine months and then I'm free…_  
  
Draco stood from where he had been squatting beside the bath, handing the sponge back to Harry. _Of course, he doesn't want anything to do with this child, or me. Why would he ever want to come?_ “Ok then, well I'll be going then. I'm not sure how long I'll be, but make sure you rest,” Draco said, walking out and leaving Harry to himself at last.  
  
Suddenly feeling as if he didn’t deserve the soothing warmth of the water, Harry climbed out of the tub, towelling himself off roughly until his skin was chaffed and raw. Stalking out of the bathroom, one glance around the bedroom showed that Malfoy had gone alone after all, his preferred (very muggle) dark jacket having gone from it’s place on the back of the comfy chair in the corner.   
  
Draco’s liquor cabinet stood ajar, which was odd in itself – Draco always kept it firmly shut, should his mother walk in (not that that mattered now, since Narcissa had discovered it the same day as they had discovered Harry’s…condition). He approached the cabinet, setting his hands on the ornate handles to close it, but as he did so, a small photograph slid out onto the floor.   
  
With a frown creasing his brow, Harry bent to pick it up, his eyes widening as they scanned the photograph. A picture of himself, it looked like it had been taken with the wizard’s ecquivalent of a polariod camera, for his seventeen year old self was staring back at him, an exhausted smile on his lips in the frame. He had just defeated Voldemort – he could tell by the way he was standing, by the specific injuries.  
  
 _He must have gotten this from the Daily Prophet records,_ Harry thought, opening the cabinet wider to set the picture back on the shelf behind the gin bottle. Draco could have his trophies if he wished, there were people out there with Harry’s photograph pasted to their walls, the fact that the blond had collected his image did not faze him, at least, not until he saw inside the cabinet properly.  
  
The supporting, back wall of the cabinet was _pasted_ with his face, not one spec of the dark, mahogany wood visible. It was like a shrine to him, with pictures holding his face from age eleven and onward. The most prominent, however, was the one propped up against a crystal goblet in the centre, a muggle snapshot of himself, seeming frozen mid-turn and glancing over his shoulder at Draco. It was from their farce of a wedding, and he was wearing the fake grin he had been told to show, but looking at it now, you would have never known it was false. Turning the picture over, however, he saw, in elaborate handwriting and sharp, green ink the words, _Everything you always wanted?_ And then, in heavier, almost _ominous_ print, the word, _Soon._  
  
Harry shivered then, whirling on his feet to face the bedroom door as it slammed shut. His heart thudded wildly in his chest and he set the picture back in it’s place and shut the cabinet up firmly. Something in this house was watching him, and it wasn’t Draco, he was sure of it. The hairs at the back of his neck prickled. He hoped Malfoy would be back soon, the shadow seemed to stay away when he was near. How ironic, that his rapist had become his _saviour_ in this matter…  
  
* * *  
  
The waiting room of the pre-natal ward at St. Mungo’s was fuller than the last time they had visited, three weeks ago. Harry shifted uncomfortably, not liking the way the few women and the one couple in the waiting room kept glancing at him. There was no way they could be wondering at his presence, however, Lucius Malfoy’s announcement of their _situation_ was splashed across every scrap of media there _was_ in the Wizarding world. He and Draco had received so many congratulations owls that many of the letters lay unopened on their personal lounge floor.   
  
_They are staring_ because _they know,_ Harry thought. _Harry Potter –_ Malfoy, _the boy-who-lived-to-be-a-freak!_  
  
“What the bloody hell are they staring at?” He hissed under his breath to Draco, whose eyes were oddly drawn to the toddlers in the corner arranging the different coloured blocks in a line…  
  
“Harry, mind your mouth, there are small children around!” Draco snapped under his breath. Harry glared at him in disbelief, irritated with his breezy attitude. But Draco’s eyes were still drifting, as if his thoughts were elsewhere for a moment. Harry hadn’t confronted him about the ‘shrine’ – not yet anyway. It still seemed all too… _stalker-like_ for him to want to dwell on for any length of time. But never having been in Draco’s situation (half of which he was _sure_ he was ignorant of) then how different would he be?   
  
_Why can’t anything be simple?_ He wondered, not for the first time.  
  
“Mr and Mr Malfoy next please?” A voice called, and both Harry and Draco slowly got to their feet.   
  
“So Mr Harry Malfoy, how have you been?” O’Dempsy asked as she gestured for them to take their seats before her. “Any problems you want to discuss? I will be giving you a standard check-up today, is everything moving along alright?”  
  
Harry shrugged, settling into the nearest chair and all-but breathing a sigh of relief as he took the weight off his feet. Never, in his entire life had he felt so tired. “Exhausted that’s all, and I’m still vomiting everything I eat–”  
“Those are still normal symptoms at this time,” O’Dempsy said, (the same woman they had visited last time, the same one that didn’t seem to like Harry very much). Harry ignored her then, turning his head away from both her and Malfoy as he sat in the chair beside him.   
  
The Healer moved forwards now, waving her wand over Harry’s stomach where he sat, the same quill hovering beside him and scrawling down information as she did so. Her wand tip glowed with a soft gold light and Harry glanced up at her just in time to see a frown wrinkle the woman’s face. “Your fluid requirements have increased, Mr Malfoy. You haven’t been drinking enough water to prevent dehydration – if your morning sickness is so severe then surely more fluids are an obvious requirement?”  
  
Harry glared at her for that tone. Who did she think he was? She reminded him painfully of Umbridge with the way she had mocked and mistreated him, all the while with a smile on her face. He dropped his gaze to the everlasting scar on his left hand – _I Must Not Tell Lies_. And his entire body tensed with fury. He was not the fifteen year old boy he had been then and no one would talk to him like that, debase him like that _ever_ again.  
  
“I drink plenty,” he insisted through clenched teeth, hearing a small _hrrumph_ from above. Was she calling him a liar?  
“Drink more, Mr Malfoy – the same for your nutrition. You were terribly malnourished when you first came to me, that is _your_ prerogative, but your child depends on you to eat sensibly now, Mr Malfoy. You need approximately one-and-a-half times _more_ calories now. Perhaps more, since you are a male mother. Sleep and eat, Mr Malfoy.”  
  
“I eat lots!” He insisted, his tone carrying an audible sneer now as he met her eyes, refusing to back down. It was her tone that did it, he almost expected her to give that same, infuriating _polite_ cough!  
  
“Mal– Draco makes me eat something for every bloody meal! He even tries to force extra down my throat at every opportunity–”  
“Well then _clearly_ that is not enough, you would do well to eat more _and_ to do so of your own volition. Your husband can only be responsible for so much, Mr Malfoy, you are the one responsible for the child’s health and development. Your husband cannot do everything for you–”  
“He’s not the one vomiting at all hours of the day is he?” Harry snapped, his fingers biting into the arms of the chair to stop him from flying to his feet.   
  
“On the examination table, Mr Malfoy,” O’Dempsy said simply, evidently oblivious to his anger – directed at _her_. Harry got to his feet, throwing Draco a glare as he passed and dropped unceremoniously onto the bed. _How dare he just sit there at let her talk down to me like a disobedient schoolboy?!_  
  
Without being prompted, he lay back and pulled his white, button-up shirt open, exposing his chest. Again, the woman’s nose wrinkled as she saw his belly piercing, but instead of merely waving her wand over him, she gestured for Draco to come closer. “He is showing more than a first-time _female_ mother might at week eight,” she said, to Draco more than him and Harry turned his head to the side, his teeth grinding so hard it _hurt_. He could not describe the humiliation wrenching at his insides as if they were a chew toy.   
  
“The… _uterus_ is just a little larger than an orange now – you’ve probably noticed that his stomach is ever so slightly raised, and more firm to touch?”  
  
 _He hasn’t noticed anything, he hasn’t had the opportunity,_ Harry thought, with a sense of victory now, with them talking about him like he wasn’t even there. He hadn’t let Draco near him since the incident at the announcement party…  
  
Draco coughed. He hadn't been allowed the privilege of _touching_ him yet. But he gave O’Dempsy a nod regardless. “Harry sometimes doesn't like me to touch his stomach, he is rather shy about such things,” Draco replied tentatively. The healer looked at Harry then.  
  
“Well there's no time to be shy when you have another life inside you, you must take better care of yourself and let your husband be your arms and legs,” She said. The truth of the matter was, Harry hadn't really been letting him do much, he still had to go to work, even though he had been taking more time off for him. What more could he do?  
  
“Is the lack of touch due to a change in your sexual appetite?” O’Dempsy prompted and Harry flushed darkly.  
“I don’t want to have sex,” he retorted stiffly.  
“Sexual intercourse within the first months is not only healthy but recommended, even for men. Towards the last few weeks there may be some issues, but until then–”  
“I don’t _care_ if it safe to do so, I don’t _want_ him poking me around. I don’t want _anyone_ poking me around!” He snarled, on the defensive as his temper snapped. “Do the bloody picture-magic show for heaven’s sake, I don’t _like_ lying here like a spectacle!”  
  
“Your hormones have given you a foul temper, Mr Malfoy, all that tension and stress is not good for the baby,” she declared, gesturing with her wand over his stomach, the same, golden light glowing from inside his stomach and on the wall, as before. “Your child is about the size of a grain of rice, right now,” she said to Draco, handing him the physical, photograph copy without his even needing to ask this time.   
  
“Your husband’s recklessness and carelessness is not good for your child, Mr Malfoy,” she continued, still to Draco and then Harry snapped, yanking his shirt back around him and buttoning it furiously, before leaping off the table, the spell still glowing warmly in his stomach.  
“ _Finite Incantatum_!” He sneered, gesturing to his own body to cancel the spell. The glow faded. His fury intensified.  
  
“Yes, it is necessary to use your magic a little, Mr Malfoy,” O’Dempsy said complacently, as if Harry were not standing before her, shivering with rage. “It will not do to overload the child, who feeds off of your magic. Hwoever, as I have said, your temper is–”  
“ _Fuck_ the bloody baby!” Harry snarled, glaring at both Draco and the woman. “The thing is – it’s not even an inch _long_! Ever think that all this _stress_ is hurting me?!”  
  
 Draco’s eyes widened in horror at that. He didn't realise that the person he had longed for all this time could _be_ like this towards another life, even if he hated the situation they were in. The blond gave O’Dempsy a polite smile, before pulling Harry aside, his fingers biting into Harry’s arm. “What the bloody hell are you playing at? Stop being so fucking _selfish_!”  
  
“Selfish?” Harry hissed, the word sticking in his throat like a needle. “I’m doing this for _you_! I’m carrying it because you asked me to and you’re just sitting there saying _nothing_ to defend me, the person you claim to _want_ so badly, while she talks down to me like that!” Harry’s teeth sank into his lip so hard it _bled_ and he glared darkly at Draco. “This isn’t what I pictured when that nurse said you would _take care of me._ I must have been a prize idiot for believing you would think about me in all of this. You wouldn’t care less if I dropped dead once this thing is born would you?”  
  
Their words became louder and O’Dempsy was looking more and more uncomfortable.   
  
“Are you a bloody idiot or what? No, actually I don't want you to die, I don't even want you to leave when it's born!” Draco hissed, To Harry’s surprise. But he wasn't finished yet. “You're being selfish because your overreacting. _She's_ trying to help you, and you're throwing it back in her face! Why don't you try listening instead of throwing a tantrum!” Draco snapped, his words easily heard by O’Dempsy now.   
  
“A tantrum?!” Harry snarled, “What, like a child you mean? Well if you’d all stop talking around me, if you’d stop prodding at me like a child with no opinion nor say in it’s life then maybe I’d stop behaving like one!” He whirled around, making for the door and when he felt Draco grab his wrist to try to pull him back, he wrenched himself roughly out of his grip. “Don’t you dare touch me!!! You’ve been avoiding me, ignoring me for the last three weeks, barely said a word except _‘eat’_ and _‘sleep’_ – you _want_ this thing! You’re supposed to _help_ me but I’ve never felt so alone! I didn’t feel this alone when I faced down _Voldemort_ all by myself!”  
  
“Maybe it's best you two have a private chat, I'll leave you alone for ten minutes,” O’Dempsy excused herself, brushing past Harry and shutting the door behind her before Harry could even think about leaving. Harry remained with his back to Draco and Draco reached for him again, but was flung away.  
  
“For heaven’s sake, Harry! I didn't think you _wanted_ me near you, you fall to peices each time I touch you! You complain when I do touch you and now I'm not touching you, you're still unhappy? You want me to be there and help you and I go to, but then you push me away!” Draco’s voice was getting louder, he was sure that everyone sitting in the waiting room down the hall could hear them.  
  
“You raped me! You tortured me! I can’t forgive that so easily! You think you can say you are sorry and I can just _forget_ what you did? Do you think I can _ever_ love this _thing_ inside me when it was just another thing forced on me? Just another part of you inside me, _raping_ me.”   
  
Draco’s eyes brimmed with shock. He felt bile creep up his throat. Harry was right and there was nothing he could say in defence to that. But he had to say _something_. “I told you, I didn't mean for it to…to ever go that far,” Draco tried, but Harry’s expression was vacant, as if Draco hadn’t even spoken.  
  
“Please don't…” His words failed him there. What was he pleading for? Himself, his baby, their marriage? “Haven't you…enjoyed _any_ of the times we had sex before? None of them?”  
  
Harry turned his head, staring at the wall in an effort to avoid Draco’s eyes. “Sometimes,” he gasped, that ugly feeling of self-loathing rearing it’s head. “Sometimes…sometimes I enjoyed it – that’s the _problem_!” His voice was low and furious now, calm but deadly like a snake before the fatal blow. “I shouldn’t enjoy the things you did – I shouldn’t _like_ being forced, _shouldn’t_ enjoy being humiliated or…or…” He trailed off then, his words failing him and he couldn’t put it into any more words _why_. Couldn’t explain it any better. He just _knew_ it felt wrong, made him feel revolted at the memory of all the times he’d given in…  
  
“Why? What's so _wrong_ with enjoying it? Because it's _me_? Because it's _Draco Malfoy_?” Draco asked, holding in his fury with clenched fists. He had done well of late, managing to handle himself, to keep his temper at bay, because he realised his wrongs now and he had to make _some_ amends. He may have been a stubborn arsehole, but he could admit when enough was enough and he honestly meant it when he said he never wanted to cause Harry anymore harm. He had never been any good at handling things, he always did go about the simplist of things in the oddest way. He never had any direction, never had anyone to guide him to right and wrong when his parents had been the Dark Lord’s followers – what kind of judge of morality were they? He didn’t know where the line between unforgivable lay so he’d had to make guessing at it growing up…  
  
One thing he did know, he hated the feeling in his gut, the one of remorse, shame, the one that was howling at him like a banshee at the way he had treated the person he had loved for longer than he could remember. And then there was his unborn baby, who deserved better from him and from Harry.   
  
“Look, even if I make you sick, if you can't… _Look at me_ , Harry, we need to work somthing out for my child. Yes, you're doing this for me, but in return you're getting your freedom, like you _wanted_!” Draco tried, his voice almost strained. “I know I should say sorry, over and over again for what I have done to you, but I just don't see any point in repetition because I know you'd never forgive me.”  
  
“Just because it’s hopeless doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try!” Harry screamed, the building emotions swelling until they burst. “That’s what makes it _mean_ something! Maybe I could accept your apologies and your efforts if they were constant and not fleeting, _fluttering_ away every time I piss you off!” He clenched his teeth tightly, hands curling into fists at his sides. “I want you to _try_! I want you to _bother_ and not run away every time I say or do something you don’t like. Because I _can’t_ run away, Malfoy! I can’t run away from it because it’s inside me!”  
  
This was useless, this was pointless. Draco would never be able to be the person he needed, it wasn’t like they were married because they loved each other hoplessly and this could all be worked out. They were forced into this, just as Harry was forced into the pregnancy he didn’t want. _It will never be alright,_ he thought, spiteful, self-loathing tears stinging his eyes. _I will never feel better and I’ll never be able to cope long enough to escape this…_  
  
Hopelessness seared his throat, choking the words from him, his mouth moving uselessly for a few moments. He shook his head. He just couldn’t. He was at breaking point.  
  
Draco swallowed hard. He didn't know what else to do. Everything he was saying was making it worse, even though he _was_ trying! “So what then? What happens now?” He wasn't even sure what to say. Usually he would force things the way he wanted them, bend the world to his will the way Lucius had taught him. But he couldn’t get what he longed for that way.   
  
“Fine then, I'm sorry!” He said at last, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I know I'm not…” He bit his tongue as his pride swelled in his chest. This was so hard for him and the words were struggling to come out right. “I’m not perfect, but I want to stay. I don't want to walk away from you, but I don't trust myself enough to…I… I don't want to hurt you or hit you so I have to walk away! I'm not running from you, you fucking idiot!”  
  
Harry shook his head again, more vigorously this time, before turning on his heel and throwing open the door. “I can’t…I thought I could, but I just…I _can’t_ …”  
  
And he ran. He heard Draco calling after him, but did not hear him follow. _Now who is running away, you little hypocrite?_ His mind spat but he ignored it, even as it hissed and snarled in his ear all the way to the floo connection.  
  
He hated being this person. When had he become such a bitter creature? He hated being Draco’s prisoner, hated feeling sorry for him, feeling guilty for hurting him when _he_ was suffering as well. Was Draco even feeling guilty for his pain? He doubted it. _His precious child, that’s all he wants,_ he thought, but he couldn’t take it. There was a much more permanent freedom he would seek and he would not have to wait.  
  
He hated the dangerous thoughts that crossed his mind, he hated the loathing he felt for his – Draco’s baby, but he hated _living_ with that feeling even more. The Manor was empty and cold, his glamorous prison…  
  
The elf appeared to take his travelling cloak but he ignored him, brushing past him and heading up the stairs. His footsteps echoed on the cool marble and his head swirled to every shadow flickering in the corner. He couldn’t live with Draco, but he dared not live alone, without him either. A vicious never-ending circle, it seemed. The corridor leading to his and Draco’s rooms felt eerie, _ghostly_ and he bolted down it, fleeing the shadows, the confusion. He didn’t stop when he reached their suite.  
  
The bedroom door screamed in protest as it rochetted off the wall and flew shut again. He tore open the liquor cabinet, smiling bitterly at the pictures of himself. “You’re not worthy of his pretty little shrine, or _anyone’s_ admiration, however sick and twisted it may be. You’re not worthy of anything!”  
  
The nearest bottle to him he grabbed off the shelf, yanking the cork out of the bottle and downing a mouthful of the brownish fluid. He gasped, spluttering at it’s foulness, finding empathy with it in his madness. He felt like this liquid poison tasted and he tipped his head back, swallowing it eagerly, waiting for it to drown his world in blackness….  
  
* * *  
  
“We will have to rescedule our appointment,” Draco said apologetically.  
O’Dempsy have a small nod. “That’s all very well Mr Malfoy, but if you and your husband don't come to some kind of arrangement where you're both happy, your baby isn't going to develop well at all” She warned him.   
Draco felt hollow at that possibility and how unlikely it was he and Harry could ever co-exist peacefully. “Thank you, we will…try.” With that, he apparated with a crack and a few moments later found him dropping down on the couch in the manor’s main lounge, sighing deeply.   
  
He flung his coat aside carelessly, tipping his head back onto the backrest of the settee and staring at the flames dancing in the hearth. He didn't know where his husband was right now and he didn't exactly care for what it was worth, Harry had shown him up in the most callous way today and right now he didn't want to see him. The sound of the fire crackling was soothing to his ears, its heat sweeping through his cold skin. He sat down peacefully in front of it for a while, allowing everything to wash away, allowing the tension to dissolve into nothingness.  
  
Almost an hour had passed when the elf dedicated to Harry and himself approached, dropping to his knees humbly before him – waiting. “Master Draco Malfoy, sir?” He began. And Draco looked down at him exhaustedly.   
“What is it, Eric?”  
“Master Harry Malfoy, he went upstairs moments before you came in sir and he hasn't made much movement since…”  
  
“He’s actually here?” Draco asked surprised, he’d been convinced that Harry wouldn't have come straight home, that he’d have gone off and sulked on his own. Though now he thought about it, where else could he go? “Where is he?”  
“Upstairs, Sir, in your bedroom. He would not let me in when I asked to be of assistance to him.”  
  
Draco pushed himself up off the settee and crossed the room, heading towards the main foyer. “I'll go check on him,” He said. Honestly, it was like he was looking after a child already.   
  
On reaching the bedroom door, Draco hesitated for a moment, before turning the ornate doorhandle. “Look, can we talk? I just want–” His words were cut short then, eyes wide at the horrific sight of Harry paralytic and jerking with spasms on the floor.   
  
“Harry? HARRY!” Draco yelled, shaking his shoulders, his head jerking back and forth on his neck. “W-Wake up! Talk to me!” Draco glanced around, empty bottles everywhere.  
“Hmm?” Harry groaned, his eyes flickering open slowly.   
“You fucking idiot! Are you trying to kill yourself?” Draco snarled.  
  
Harry gave a slurred, miserable laugh, his eyes hazy and rolling blindly in the sockets. Drool slid down his chin and he struggled weakly in Draco’s grasp, his movements clumsy and laboured, as if he did not have full control over his limbs. “ _Yessss_ ,” He gurgled out, “What _else_ could I be _doing_ …?!”   
  
Harry’s head lolled to the side, tipping into Draco’s chest and he winced, trying to pull away, but had no strength to make his head move. “I ca-can’t…don’t make me…I’ve tried too _hard_ … I’ve done everything everyone – everyone _wanted_ ,” he murmured, as Draco tried to sit him up, the task harder than it sounded with Harry’s body jerking with violent spasms. “I _killed_ him didn’t I? I want to – to r-rest…can we rest now?”  
  
It was then, that his body went rigid, his hazy, green eyes flying wide open and staring up at Draco. He froze and then, his body jerked upwards, lurching straight out of Draco’s arms. Harry’s body curled a little on it’s side, quivering violently, a vile, revolting choking sound brewing in his throat. His eyes rolled up into the back of his head and he screamed as he felt the shadow dance behind the door again, but Draco didn’t see it. Why couldn’t he see it!  
  
“S-Stop! M-Make it…make it stop _following_ me…I haven’t…!” His words were drowned by a sickening gurgle and then Harry turned his head, throwing up over the floor. He felt Draco move behind him, saying something, shifting restlessly but he couldn’t make sense of it, or anything else as his mind spiralled into chaos and he kept retching on the floor.  
  
“Harry, tell me – tell me you haven't taken anything other then alcohol?” Draco asked, probing him as he head tipped sideways into his vomit. When Harry said nothing and became unresponsive Draco felt panic bubble in his chest. He dragged Harry (laboriously) to the bed, laying him on it as well as he could before callig for Eric and sending him for Professor Snape and his mother. Both of whom, were there within the next few moments.   
  
“I know he has been drinking, but I'm not sure for how long or what else he might’ve taken,” Draco told Snape, who was working on Harry, his voice struggling to remain even.  
“If you didn't have your own supply of drugs and booze he wouldnt even be in this situation!” Narcissa hissed. And Draco clenched his teeth together, fighting back the sadness that wanted to reach his eyes at his mother’s tone.  
  
“I-I didn't know he was going to come back after a silly argument and try to fucking kill himself did I?” He snapped back in retaliation.  
“Don't you dare talk to me like that!” She admonished, to which he became very silent.  
  
“I don't think Harry was trying to kill himself, Draco,” Snape interjected distractedly, “And Narcissa, please calm down, arguing will only make this worse.” The two malfoys looked sheepish suddenly and Severus tore his gaze away from Harry to regard them both critically, before continuing. “It looks as though he was trying to find some release from the pressure he is feeling – the one I am sure _you_ Draco, are very aware he is under after your previous encounter with him.”  
  
Draco looked down shamefully. He knew it already! He was already beating himself up for leaving him in front of the fire, for torturing him while he was pregnant, he already knew what a monster he was! He didn't need reminding! “I know, please, just tend to him?” Draco requested.   
  
“Started to care, have we?” Narcissa interjected bitingly, still evidently furious with his behaviour. “I can't believe you're my son!”  
  
“I detect something other than alcohol in his system,” Snape said gravely, putting his wand away in his robe pocket and turning to Draco. “His magic is doing a lot of the work, trying to keep the poison of the alcohol and the foreign substance from the baby, however, we need to purge his system completely. If an _ounce_ breaks through it could seriously harm them both. Do you have anything that will make him vomit until…where are his possessions?” Snape asked then suddenly, moving to the armoire and drawing his wand once more.   
  
“ _Accio_ Puking Pastiles!” He murmured, and a small token box shot out of the trunk at the bottom of the wardrobe, straight into Snape’s hands. “Those Weasley products are _some_ good at least – it is a good thing your husband has a partnership with the remaining twin, and too much heart to throw away his gifts.” He moved over Harry, Narcissa wrapping an arm around Harry’s shoulders. The boy shivered, struggling in her grasp.  
  
“Draco, hold his head back,” Snape instructed, waiting for Draco to come to Harry’s other side and do as he was bid. The Potion’s master pushed one end of the pastille into Harry’s mouth, rubbing his throat until he gave a swallow. There was no need for a visual check of his mouth, the evidence of the Weasley invention would be upon them soon.  
  
“Draco, the bin?” He suggested and at once Draco tipped out its current contents, bringing it under Harry’s chin. Within moments, the boys eyes flew open and the vomiting began again, more violently this time, with Harry muttering desperate, incoherent things in between retches.   
  
“We will give him the antidote when he has got it all out,” Snape explained, turning to Draco with narrowed eyes then. “I traced a painkilling potion – _after_ the alcohol was consumed. That is a lethal combination, I would like to know how he managed to get hold of such a concentrated dose of that potion…it is _never_ recommended undiluted as is. So tell me, Draco, where did it come from?”  
  
“What? I have no idea–” But Snape and his mother were both staring at him, evidently neither one of them believing him. Draco glared back. He wouldn’t _do_ this! “Ask Eric! He was here, he saw Harry come in, I haven't touched him since I found him like this, I…I _wouldn’t_! Never again!”  
  
Their gazes then turned to the elf, whom had been hovering around in the doorway. He raised his head proudly, eager to defend his master. “Young Master Draco is telling the truth! He went and sat on the sofa for an hour before I came and got him, as I was worried for Master Harry Malfoy! Master Draco was unaware that Harry was even here until I had told him. I _swears_ Mistress! I _swears_!”  
  
“I wouldn't do that anyway! That’s _my child inside there_!”  
“You had no problem torturing your husband,” Narcissa responded simply, “Yet you object to harming your child?”  
  
Ignoring them, Snape looked back to Harry as he cried out in despair and coughed up the contents of his stomach.  
  
“Potter – Harry?” Snape murmured, not knowing if Harry was _with them_ enough to understand his words, but trying anyway. “Was there anyone in the room while you were in here?”  
Harry spluttered, sweat dripping down his nose, his skin a deadly white. And then, “Dr-Draco…” He managed out.  
“Before Draco, was there anyone else?” Narcissa prompted gently, plucking his glasses off of his nose, wiping them and setting them on the side-table out of the way.  
Harry retched again, simply fluid this time, thin, like there was not much left to give…  
  
“S-Shad…s-shadow!” Harry croaked raspily, dry heaving painfully.   
  
“What shadow?” Snape prompted, but Harry just shook his head, collapsing back onto the sheets. Draco readily removed the waste basket from under Harry’s nose, Snape reaching in to run his wand within an inch of Harry’s chest and stomach with slow, sweeping motions.  
  
“Give him the antidote portion of the Weasley trinket, Narcissa,” Snape instructed, sitting back and looking slowly between Draco and Harry. “Such violent vomiting is not truly advised for the child, but it was healthier than letting the alcohol and such concentrated a dose of potion to reach it. Both will be fine, the potion is gone, and _that_ is what would have done the damage, it must have been given to him within ten minutes of your reaching him, Draco…”  
  
Severus Snape’s voice trailed off thoughtfully, but whatever he was deducing in his silence, he never voiced it aloud.   
  
“Someone tried to kill Harry?” Narcissa asked, “But the wards, Severus, they are–”  
“There are ways around them, once invited there are numerous loopholes a person could use to gain entry again, and your husband has held a few celebratory gatherings lately, Narcissa.”  
“So _anyone_ could be trying to hurt him?”  
Snape tilted his head a little in neither the negative or affirmative. “Or perhaps the child?”  
  
Narcissa’s eyes flew to her only son, who was watching Harry’s quiet and still body unwaveringly. “Draco,” her voice was soft, as it hadn’t been towards her child for a few weeks now. But he looked positively traumatised. “Draco, are you alright?”  
  
“I don't understand what's going on here,” He said with a struggle. “So, someone else is definitely responsible for this?”  
”Not the drinking, Draco,” Snape replied, “Your husband did that by himself. But the potion, that was not of his own administration.” Even though Harry hadn't drugged himself, he had still drunk carelessly, with no intention of caring what would happen to him, or Draco’s child.   
  
“Right,” Draco said, not sure what to say. “I-I can take care of him now,” He assured him, looking at his mother and forcing her a smile, though she didn't believe it he was sure.  
  
“I leave a pregnancy-safe nourishment potion for him here,” Snape said, setting it on the sidetable, “Make sure he has it in _unison_ with a light meal. Make sure he drinks lots of fluids.”  
  
Narcissa sighed deeply then, leaning forward to brush a kiss to her son’s cheek. “I may not always agree with your mistakes, but I hope that you would trust your mother enough to come fetch her when you are confused?” She murmured, offering him a warm smile before getting to her feet, bidding Severus to follow her to the door quietly. “I will see to it that new wards are erected around your chambers so that only you and Harry may enter at will, others will need permission. The Manor will be checked thoroughly also, this will never happen again,” she assured him, a fiercely protective fire burning in her eyes. She didn’t agree with his mistakes, but a mother’s love extended beyond mistakes.  
  
The door closed quietly behind them, but still, Harry stirred. He blinked blearily up at the fuzzy blond shape sitting beside him on the bed, watching him closely, it seemed. His stomach felt sore, abused while his throat was raw, burning. “D-Draco?” he asked huskily, although he could tell it was him from this close-up. He frowned, his head still swirling, _pounding_. He wasn’t quite sure at first and then…  
  
His hands slid down to his still flat stomach, his skin freezing to the touch and he shivered. Guilt and agony glared to life in his chest like a sudden light of realisation in the dark. “D-Did I…I kill it?” He asked quietly, his voice full of exhausted dread.  
  
“No… But if I hadn't got to you when I did, you probably would have,” Draco retorted stiffly, his voice seemed heavy with stifled anger. He looked away from Harry and at the floor, just when Harry’s vision had cleared enough for him to see Draco’s shape. Draco’s head was at a funny angle it seemed from where he (Harry) was lying and he could only see one of his eyes, which was narrowed and cold. He looked like he wanted to speak, and he did, he had lots of things he wanted to say, but he couldn't even decide where to start.   
  
The silence between them was chilling, Draco’s hands seemed to be trembling, Harry noticed.  
  
“I…I was just so tired,” he explained lamely. Was there any adequate way to explain the temporary insanity that had overcome him? “It's no…no excuse but – I've spent my whole life being someone else's pawn. S-Spent it sacrificing myself for another's cause. I just…I thought that when I was a man, when I got married and had children I could leave that life behind. I promised never to let someone use me again. I've broken that promise in marrying you.”  
  
He paused for a moment, his hand groping the nightstand for his glasses, slipping them on his nose to better see Draco’s expression, and the way he was determindedly looking away. Harry struggled to sit up higher in the pillows, wincing when he tried at the pain that flashed through his stomach. He'd never vomited so much in his life!   
  
“I was angry, I – I was exhausted and I hated the person I'd become,” he murmured quietly, “I just wanted to escape for a while, I didn't…I didn't have my rational mind…” He glanced up then, Draco was still not looking at him. He frowned slightly. “I'm…I'm sorry, alright?”  
  
Draco remained silent for another few minutes as Harry continued to apologise uselessly. Then Draco clenched his hands in the fabric of his trousers, the backs of his eyes beginning to prickle. “T-Tired… You were tired? You were fucking tired?! You think being _tired_ gives you the right to put yourself, and our unborn child in _danger_?!” Draco screamed, whirling around to face him. “You could’ve killed yourself _and_ our child!”  
  
Draco stopped then, his teeth grinding furiously, his body tight and shaking with fury and at the same time his insides trembling at the thought of losing either of them…  
  
“ _Who_ are you?! Your life has been so _fucking_ hard that you'll put an innocent child’s life on the line will you? Yes you have been through hardships, suffered but then so have I and so has _everybody else_ in this fucking world, you self-righteous prick! Stop acting like you're the centre of the universe and everyone else just _revolves_ around you! Because you may be the _Boy Who Lived,_ but right now, you're not anything, you're _nothing_!”  
  
Harry raised his chin, Malfoy deserved that he look him in the eye after what he had done. “I am – I am nothing, that's why I…I wanted it to stop, if only for a moment. I hate what I've become, hate that I can't even love my own child like you did so easily. I loathe myself for…for hating it.” He frowned, considering Draco’s hard expression while he carefully selected the right words.  
  
“I haven't been handling this well,” he admitted, sitting up a little straighter in bed, if only to punish himself for what he had been doing with that flash of aching agony. “I…I thought that you'd corrupted me, but the truth is my bitterness did that. You did a lot of rotten things but you're trying to make amends whereas I…I was using them as an excuse to wallow in the unfairness of it all…”   
  
He dropped his eyes then, he didn't neccessarily need Draco’s forgivenesss to survive here for another eight or so months, but it would make things easier and healthier for the baby. _The one you almost killed,_ his mind cursed him. “I can't…I can't help not wanting the thing but…it's still a baby and I'm not the kind of person to hurt an innocent…” He sighed wearily, dragging his fingers through his hair and tugging at the roots harshly. “I don't want to be that kind of person.” He met Draco’s intense gaze again. “So I'll – I'll take care of it while it's my responsibility. I promise. You intend to keep your word to let me go, so I'll keep mine.”  
  
Draco turned to look at him for a moment, considering him. “Don't promise me somthing so _easily_ if you can't keep to it, if this happens again, I'll…I don't want to _lose it_. I can't. And you will be the one at fault for breaking your promise to me.” The blond cheeks were stained with damp tracks, his eyes an angry, tired red. This was the first time Harry had seen him openingly crying like this since…  
  
 _Since sixth year.  
_   
“When you were forced to marry me, you thought you'd be spending your entire life with me, but instead this has happend and this baby has provided you an escape – the exact thing you want! So even if you don't like it, you should be _thanking it_ for blessing you with a way out from here and a way away from me, not trying to kill it!”   
  
Draco felt choked everytime he mentioned Harry leaving, but it had to be said. Sighing deeply, he wiped his eyes with the back of his arm and paced the room restlessly. “My head hurts, I can't remember the last time I cried like that, like I was…” He went silent then. A rush of sudden memories crashed into the forefront of his mind and he winced. His hand shot up immediately to his head. He felt quite dizzy.  
  
“I've never made you a promise before – but I'm making one now and I don't break promises,” Harry assured him, unnerved by the sight of his…his tears. “I…even if I don't want it, it's life is more important than mine. I wasn't trying to kill it before either, for the record. I was just…I wasn't thinking.”  
  
His throat felt dry and raw and he reached for the glass of water on the side, his hand shaking uneasily from weakness. It jerked in his hand, threatening to spill as he brought it to his lips. _Why is he crying?_ Harry wondered. “I won't…won't let it die, Draco,” he assured him, his voice soft in the use of the blond’s given name. That made Draco look up at him, as if in disbelief.  
  
Draco glared darkly at Harry, part of him just couldn't trust his recklessness. But one thing was for sure, Draco had to change, he _knew he did_ if he wanted to keep his child, he didn't want to do anything that would drive Harry to this place again. He couldn't afford to lose him, or his child.   
  
“I’m – I’m not really sure what I should say to you, Harry,” He said softly, which only assured Harry of the genuine hurt he was feeling and how human he really was underneath the spitefulness and the skin-deep cruelty. The chilling truth was he was just as hurt and lost as Harry himself, if not more so. He gazed blindly at Harry, at his stomach and then, slowly, he approached Harry. He leant over him, just for a moment and Harry tensed, thinking he was going to kiss him, or worse.  But he simply reached over him for the empty glass and wandered into the bathroom.  
  
Harry watched him go, a fresh guilt at expecting the worst of his husband settling atop the bottomless pit of wretchedness at nearly hurting an innocent life. _You couldn't even kill Voldemort properly, couldn't use the torture curse on Bellatrix, Sirius's murderer!_ But he could do that to an inoocent child that couldn't fight him back? He felt nauseated again, watching the bathroom door and waiting for Draco’s return.   
  
_Sirius and my parents would be so ashamed of me if they saw me now. And not because of what I've done with Draco – but because of what I could have done today._  
  
Draco returned then, the glass he had taken full of water once again as he approached the bed. Harry watched him carefully, worrying his lip as he considered his words. “How can I prove to you that I – that I won't do this again?” Harry asked. _Perhaps reassurance will stop him from being so upset?_ He had no idea, but he was sure whatever was bothering Draco so much, he was responsible for…  
  
“Tell me what to do,” he said, his belly trembling with the aftermath of vomiting.  
  
“Well you can start by resting and listening to me _and_ the healer – even if you don't like her or what she has to say. I don't forgive you, just as you don’t forgive me and you can't just convince me because you suddenly _want to_. Nothing you can possibly say will ever make this just _vanish_.” But then, the penny dropped and he realised, this was exactly how Harry felt. “But then, I suppose that makes us even. All you can do is take care of yourself.” Draco winced as the image of Harry sprawled on the floor, shaking with spasms flashed through his mind. “I – I don't want to see you like that again.”  
  
Harry nodded slowly, taking the cup of water Draco offered him with a quiet thanks and sipping it slowly. “I never want to be like that again, I never will, I promise – whether you believe that promise or not.” Draco just watched him, studying his face (still paled with the aftermath of his sickness) as if checking for signs he was lying.  
  
“But you should know… I don't hate you, Draco,” he revealed quietly, “I don’t know if I used to, but I don’t hate you now.” He watched Draco’s eyes widen. “I think that I can never hate someone whose…whose _mistakes_ or _sins_ only hurt myself. If you had truly killed Dumbledore or had taken a life of someone I loved then – then probably. But I don't hate you.” His lips tipped up in a weak smile then as he settled back against the cushions, shivering from the cold. “You'll have to work a lot harder than that to make me hate you. I’m the Boy Who Even Gave Voldemort A Last Chance, after all.”  
  
Draco felt his cheeks flushing, hot and red with the sudden rush of happiness in all this chaos. “Oh.”  He had thought for sure that there would be no chance of even _civility_ between them. He averted his gaze from Harry quickly, though he was sure he had already seen his expression. “I – I thought that…” Still unable to control his expression he made himself look at his husband. This was proberly the first time Harry had seen such a genuine, innocently embarrassed look in his eyes, the ones staring at him, almost _dotingly_ , like he _loved_ him unrestrainedly for that moment.  
  
Shaking his head, Draco turned once more. “Nevermind what I thought, I'm _happy,_ I guess _is the word_ , to hear you say that.”  
  
Harry flushed almost as darkly as Draco, the colour returning thusly to his pale cheeks. _I must feel better if I'm embarrassed,_ he thought, not really knowing how to take Draco’s reaction. Should he be pleased that his…his _husband_ was capable of such tenderness, such _human_ compassion and sincerity? Or…what?  
   
“When do I have to go back to the healer again?” He asked, reaching down to pull the sheet over his legs, sure that Draco was all-too grateful for the change of topic. “I'll behave this time,” he promised, when Draco raised a brow at that question.  
  
“Next Thursday,” He said calmly. That was a week from today. Draco felt extremely awkward when he approached Harry with his next question, his voice tentative, “Do you want me…to…to get you anything?”  
  
Harry blinked at him, still a little embarrassed at Draco offering to do things for him, especially after everything he had just…  
  
“I think I heard Snape say I should drink a nourishment potion,” he said, indicating to the vial on the bedside table. “And then…I don’t know…” He lowered his head a little, fidgeting uncomfortably under the intensity of that gaze. “Maybe some tea…?”  
  
Draco laughed. “I didn't know you liked tea,” He replied, amused at that and gave a small laugh, following promptly by asking how many sugars. Harry seemed to dunk into deep thought for a moment. “The question wasn't that hard,” Draco mused and Harry shifted over in the bed, fumbling in the bedside drawer for something that wasn't there any longer.  
  
“You want some mints for the taste?” Draco suggested, noticing where Harry had reached.   
“Yeah, two” He replied carefully. Draco blushed. It had been so childish and stupid that he had felt _triumphant_ when he’d done it. Now he just felt stupid.  
”I…I really don't like mint very much, so I…I hid them. I s’pose I didn't want to kiss you with that taste in your mouth,” He admitted, knowing Harry knew he had taken them just to piss him off in truth.  
  
Harry frowned. “I can’t believe Draco Malfoy stole my peppermints,” he muttered in amusement, holding his hand, palm-up to Malfoy. “Well can I have them now? Because the choice between vomit and peppermint surely isn’t a tough one to make, surely?”  
  
Draco’s lips rose with that devilish smirk Harry had become all-too accustomed to now, as he leant in, taking hold of Harry’s outstretched wrist firmly. “Was that an invitation to kiss you then, _Malfoy_?” He breathed.  
  
Harry swallowed hard, not sure whether Draco was joking or not, especially when he called him by his own surname like that. “Vomit or peppermint?” He prompted, trying to sound blasé about it all but in truth feeling uneasy at the thought of kissing Draco, especially with this… _tension_ between them. He didn’t think he’d be ready for intimacy for a while.  
  
Draco lent in close then, taking a hold of the peppermint pot and flicking the cap. “I would kiss you with or without the peppermint, Harry, I’ve been forced to taste fouler things no doubt,” He said, a dark, nostalgic glint flittering through his eyes so briefly that Harry nearly missed it. Draco had definitely endured things Harry had no comprehension of, he was _certain_ of it.   
  
“Besides,” Draco added, his voice forcibly uplifted it seemed, “You think I never had a vomit flavoured Berty Botts’ Bean before?” A small smile grew and he leant closer, taking one of the mints from the pot and placing it carefully between Harry’s teeth, watching it disappear into Harry’s mouth. His finger lingered, touching those lips tenderly, _thoughtfully_ , before he snapped back into reality and retracted his touch.  
  
“I'll fetch you your tea…”  
  
 _~To Be Continued..._


	12. Four Months Following

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all :) Chapter twelve and it all gets a bit more sinister now.. In regards to one reviewer saying that Harry was being too forgiving and that it was us saying rape is fine if the person feels sorry, I just have to say that firstly, Harry is a forgiving person in the books, look at all the stuff the Dursleys did and he still had compassion for them at the beginning of DH. Read the book thoroughly before you criticise character development. As for the condoning of rape, I am no longer ashamed to admit I suffered an experience where I was forced and forgave them, almost immediately because of how I felt, although that did not 'make it ok', i was still upset and damaged, but I forgave. There is a difference between forgiveness and condoning someone's behaviour. Just because you forgive a friend for hurting you doesnt mean you think its immediately alright. Just because Harry forgives Draco for his mistakes doesnt mean he trusts him etc. also, you forget he had just done something incredibly stupid himself and is trying to make up for it in accepting Draco's apologies a little more, he wanted to be forgiven himself, after all. Everyone reacts differently and if someone like me can forgive the act then i believe someone like Harry who has suffered immensely in the stories can forgive it probably easier than you or I could.
> 
> We will both say this, however. That the rape aspect is just part of the story and we do not condone it. Draco's ideas of sex are warped for numerous reasons that you'll find out later, eventually he realises the difference between rape and bdsm/Dsm but that doesnt mean we condone the torture etc.
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks again to all our reviewers! Your words are so sweet, we appreciate every single syllable ^.^

  
[Twelve]  
  
 **Four Months Following**  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Harry groaned in appreciation as the cool water splashed over his face, trickling down his _glowing_ cheeks and throat. He glanced up at himself in the mirror, the reflection sort of fuzzy thanks to his glasses still sitting on the side in the bedroom, but he could still see the fresh, subtle glow to his skin. _About the only positive symptom there is_ , he thought, rubbing his stomach as if that would help to settle it as he moved into the walk-in shower.  
  
  
  
Narcissa had given a small, _knowing_ chuckle over dinner last night when he had complained that _Morning Sickness_ was a misleading name and that their _‘incompetent’_ Healer had told him it should ease by now. Lucius had said nothing as usual while his grandchild was the topic of discussion and Harry wondered if perhaps he did not wholly approve of it’s _mother,_ but it was too late for that now.  
  
  
  
He had left Draco in bed this morning, slipping out early and quietly, purely because he had _other_ needs to appease this morning besides resting. And whilst usually he would crawl back into bed after being sick, today, the shower heads erupted with perfectly warm water. The charmed liquid, filled with potions designed to ease his muscles, cascaded across his shoulders, bathing his body in warmth. He leant against the dark, marble tiles then, letting the rivulets rush over him, closing his eyes as he reached down…  
  
  
  
 _Yes!_  
  
  
  
That book he had been reading (that the healer had given him) assured him that this was his hormones going wild and the increased blood-flow that sent his sensitivity sky-high. He had brushed it off, putting his body’s cravings to the side and tried to forget about it, but after this morning…  
  
  
  
He had only shifted over onto his side in waking and the way the sheet had glided over his limp member had sent it pulsing with need. If he had stayed in that bed a moment longer he would have found himself humping an unconscious Malfoy’s leg! Luckily, Draco had been asleep and Harry had snuck out for this…this moment of relief.  
  
  
  
His tendons stuck out in his body, every inch of him trembling with need and he groaned unrestrainedly, his cheeks filling with warmth as he heard his cries of passion ricochet off the walls. _Malfoy can’t know about this,_ he thought desperately, tugging hard on his erection and thanking the sound of the shower for disguising his voice – he hoped. _If he knew he’d never let me forget it!_  
  
  
  
  
  
The sunlight swam in through the window, greeting Draco where he lay half asleep with the beginnings of a headache. He unwillingly opened his eyes. The sound of the shower running made him sit up slowly and he glanced to the bathroom door briefly before reaching for his painkilling potion. He found only an empty vial. “Great,” He grumbled, getting to his feet sleepily and heading for the bathroom door.  
  
  
  
He stopped when he drew closer, the sound of badly stifled _moans_ coming from beyond the door. He pressed his ear to the wood and listened intently, struggling to imagine the image that went along with those noises…  
  
  
  
  
  
Harry slid down the wall of the shower, throwing his head back to press into the slick marble in release of his thrill and he let out a low, trembling whine of passion, free to cry out all he wished now no one could hear him. “S-So…so _good,_ ” he panted, sliding down so that his back met the shower floor and he sucked the middle finger of his free hand into his mouth, caressing and lathing the digit with spittle…  
  
  
  
Another husky noise fled his lips as he reached around, circling his hypersensitive ring of muscles and squirming up into the hand fisting his cock still. “So…nice… _Jesus Christ!_ ” He pushed in then, the angle awkward for his arm but he didn’t care, not when he hooked his finger just right to massage the throbbing, swollen spot that had been neglected for so long. He tossed his head, the tiny pool of water on the shower floor lapping at his body, only adding to the sensations of his sex-starved frenzy.  
  
  
  
Four months along now, and he hadn’t had any sexual relief since that night with Draco at the announcement party. He hadn’t really wanted it, not until now. And it had been far, far too long…  
  
  
  
“Too long…” He hissed out, writhing like an electrified snake on the ground.  
  
  
  
  
  
Draco’s eyes widened at the sight of his husband through the small gap in the door. Suddenly his throat felt dry while he watched Harry’s hand glide along that organ passionately. _So hot!_ His eyes almost melted in the sockets in watching the water drizzle down over the curve of his belly, splashing over his honey-hued torso.  
  
  
  
Draco felt something below harden and his stomach muscles knot tightly. These images made his own body heat up in the most unimaginable way. Harry’s legs were spread wide open, his hand wrapped deliciously around his thickness, fisting it heavily. Then his lips, parting with gasps at each stroke he took. Draco couldn't divert his gaze, he felt as if his eyes were glued to the image. Mesmerized by it. The water drizzling down his thighs, his hand torturing his organ as he panted…  
  
  
  
  
  
Harry’s tight chute clamped around his finger, cutting off the blood supply until it hurt but the rest was so good it overpowered it. “W-Want it… _more_ …” He choked out, to no one in particular as he squeezed his dribbling cock, saliva leaking from the corner of his mouth and his eyes glassy. “C-Cum…want to _cum_ …” He moaned, low in his throat, humping the tight tunnel of his fist.  
  
  
  
His back arched upwards, as if pleading for someone to tweak his nipples the way he’d found he liked. But there was no one there to beg, no one there to watch him writhe towards his completion and Harry took advantage of that freedom, particularly vocally…  
  
  
  
Draco’s heart was racing in his chest, Harry was making him harder then he cared to admit. He had respected his wishes for space and the most intimate they had been was sharing a bed – with pyjamas on. He hadn’t made advances, not once, but it appeared Harry was suffering for that now.  
  
  
  
The sight, the sounds, even the path of the _water_ was turning him on. Swallowing in anticipation, he pushed the door open a little more to get a better view, careful not to expose himself to Harry. His eyes feasted upon him, watching one hand trail up to his unpierced nipple to tweak it. He lightly flicked it then wriggled, this motions sending shudders over Draco just from watching.  
  
  
  
He raced his own hand down to ease the hardness that had formed in his pyjama bottoms, carefully weaving under the fabric until he found his own cock. He grasped it quickly, rushing his hand along it while watching Harry do the exact same. He was so tempted to plead with Harry to be even more vocal, but if he did, if he interrupted, this would end, so he remained silent, biting down on his lip to hold in his own moans.  
  
  
  
“Hnnn…mhh… _soon_!” Harry gasped out, fingering himself vigorously as he jerked his cock towards completion. His hole clenched greedily around the digit, wanting more, needing more. “Not-Not enough!” He cried out, but his balls were tightening anyway, drawing up tight against his body as his cock arched, hardening almost painfully as he tugged the foreskin down, the swollen, red head glistening with the precipice of his climax.  
  
  
  
“Hmm…n-now…Cumming!” He cried out, squirming maddeningly and panting as he turned his cheek into the puddle of warm water around him, not even noticing the bathroom door open fully, or his husband approaching. He didn’t notice anything but the white-hot pleasure bolting through his body.  
  
  
  
Draco cleared his throat noisily as he walked in (having already done up his trousers). “Don't stop on account of me,” He said brusquely, glancing to Harry with an odd look in his eyes, an almost playful, seductive look…  
  
  
  
As he opened the cabinet door and reached in for the painkilling potion, he looked back at a flustered Harry whom, didn't seem to be capable of _moving_ much less responding. Draco closed the door of the cabinet, tipping his head back as he swallowed the foul potion, before turning back to Harry. He approached slowly, that odd look lingering in his eyes still, even as he stepped into the running shower – still in his pyjama bottoms.  
  
  
  
Harry shimmied backwards when Draco closed the door behind him, turning towards the running water as if oblivious to Harry’s presence. “I fancy a shower too,” He purred huskily, reaching over a naked Harry for the shampoo sitting on a little ledge on the opposite wall. His husband leapt up as if in defense and their chests brushed together. Draco swore he could feel Harry’s heartbeat racing in there.  
  
  
  
Harry snarled in frustration at his postponed release, dropping his hand from his cock and his eyes to the ground as he moved to pass Malfoy in an attempt at escape. A firm hand in the centre of his chest pressed him back into the wall of the shower, gliding across his damp pectorals, along his collarbone up his throat gently to tip his head up to look at him. Harry flushed darkly, his tongue darting out to swipe the moisture from the shower off his lips, his eyes shining darkly with lust.  
  
  
  
“Let me go,” he breathed huskily, “I – I need to finish…I’ve been…for too long. I–” His teeth clenched and he squirmed uncomfortably when Draco’s eyes dropped down to the subtle bump of his stomach – almost invisible until he was this naked. Draco didn’t move to touch him there, but the hand at his throat slid to the side, caressing the delicate place where is his pulse was racing under his skin on his neck, drawing a gasp from him in spite of himself. “I – _bloody hell_ , Malfoy, there is a reason I snuck out to deal with this without you knowing!”  
  
  
  
Tickling his fingers over Harry’s neck, Draco felt Harry’s attempts to escape weaken swiftly, as though he were crumbling under the pressure of his neglected needs. Melting into Draco’s touch, his fingers teasing and soft, sending goosebumps over his skin. _He’s gagging for it,_ Draco thought smugly.  
  
  
  
“You only have to ask me and I'll do it for you,” The blond said plainly, his eyes travelling to that tiny bump he so desperately wanted to feel. Resolved to stick to what Harry obviously wanted, Draco brought his free hand up from underneath, rolling Harry’s balls in his palm lightly. “Why torture yourself, when I can do it for you?” He asked.  
  
  
  
“Because…!” Harry began but then his teeth caught his lower lip and he turned his head to the side, avoiding Draco’s gaze as that hand massaged his sac gently. It was a mixture of things on his behalf, and he could not voice them aloud for he _knew_ how foolish they sounded. It wasn’t because of who this was, how could that bother him any longer after the alcohol incident, when Draco had proved himself a little more than Harry had expected?  
  
  
  
No, he thought, as Draco’s hand slid up, tugging at his pierced bud provocatively. His body jerked forwards, wanting that and so much more, despite his reservations. The water raced down their bodies and Harry groaned as Draco plucked his nipple again, still not looking up at him. _It’s because I’m reduced to such a state – I say and do such embarrassing things! I hate how I sound and how I look when he’s molesting those reactions out of me,_ he thought, believing also that the fear of being laughed at and refused played a part as well…  
  
  
  
“H-How…am I s’posed to do that?” He gasped out, shaking his head as Draco’s other hand slid around him to squeeze his arse maddeningly. That hot palm in contrast of the cool wall pressed against his skin made him squirm again. He hadn’t asked for sex so far and he didn’t intend to – if he could help it.  
  
  
  
Draco laughed, amused at his horny husband playing the reluctant, ignorant virgin. “You just say, _I'm feeling horny, fuck me!_ ” Draco said brazenly, his voice hot and trembling when the words _‘fuck me’_ rolled over them. He couldn't have said it any more sexily. He hand palmed the round shape of Harry’s arse, grasping at it with eager fingers every now and again between subtle movements. Harry gasped, lips parting with pleasure when Draco’s hand brushed past his penis, purposefully tickling the insides of his thighs. Leaning in to the dark-haired boy’s ear, Draco whispered, “And your body doesn't seem to be objecting.”  
  
  
  
“My-My body is young and impulsive,” Harry growled out, “I-It doesn’t – doesn’t know what it wants! _Bloody_ hormones…” He felt Draco chuckle against his skin, that mouth pressing dangerously at the flesh underneath his ear. Harry jerked when hot breath steamed over the shell of his ear, never able to resist it and leant into the touch, _feeling_ that smirk before those lips wrapped around his sensitive lobe.  
  
  
  
“Hmmh!” He groaned, “I – I was already close you _wanker_ , you – you shouldn’t take advantage of me when I can’t say no…!” _Bloody hormones,_ he thought. Yes, they’re what was responsible for his uncontrollable, shuddering reactions and desires.  
  
  
  
“Ha, blame your hormones if you want, I don't really care so long as you let me touch you,” Draco groaned, turning the shower on fully so that the water thundered over them like the spray of a waterfall. Then his fingers slowly wrapped around the hardness that was Harry was blaming on his hormones. “Hmm, your cock is purple with neglect, _Harry_ ,” Draco moaned, rolling the tip of his nose up along the shaft from the base. “How hard were you touching yourself, hmmm?” The blond asked, water dripping from his delecate strands of blond hair, over his eyelashes. _Why was he affecting him so? Especially considering the bastard he had been?_  
  
  
  
 _But he hasn’t been a bastard to you lately,_ a small voice from the back of Harry’s mind supplied.  
  
  
  
“Hmm, you want me to suck this, _Malfoy_?” Draco teased.  
  
  
  
Harry’s head rolled on his shoulders and his cock jerked up at the sound an feel of Draco’s words ghosting over it’s leaking tip. “You complete _arse_ ,” Harry growled out, Draco’s cheek grazing his length teasingly. “J-Just…just do it!” Clearly, that wasn’t enough, for Malfoy merely leant back to grasp his cock at the base, tapping his swollen head on his parted lips teasingly.  
  
  
  
“Look at me, as if you mean it,” Draco demanded, and Harry, his mind spiralling from frustration and want glanced down, their eyes locking. And the heat in his stomach jolted at the sight of Draco looking up at him, his lips parted, waiting to wrap around his length. Harry groaned, his cock spitting pre-emission over Draco’s lips, lips that tipped up in a smirk in reaction.  
  
  
  
Draco smirked with the intensity of that gaze, along with the 'complete arse' comment, which had amused him immensely. His eyebrows tilted as he grazed his teeth along the underside of that heated organ. Everything was throbbing and hot and Harry seemed to be unconciously jerking forward at even the slightest touch.  
  
  
  
“Hmm,” Draco groaned, his tongue rolling out over his lips to bathe the slit of Harry’s organ with spittle. He circled the tip with his tongue ravenously, tasting the small drops of pre-cum that weren't carried away with the running water. Humming against that flesh, Draco smiled, finally pressing his lips over the end and rolling them down over the hot length.  
  
  
  
Harry panted headily, one hand hovering hesitantly, as if unsure whether to touch Draco or not. Draco must have glanced up to see the hesitation, however, for his cheeks hollowed as he sucked hard, his moist head diving completely down over Harry’s cock. “Y-Yes!” Harry growled out, that tongue lapping at the underside and his hand flying to grasp Draco’s hair roughly, not sure whether he was trying to pull him away or keep him from stopping.  
  
  
  
It was the closest Draco’s face had been to his cock since ‘that’ incident – the last time Draco had tortured him, but in his ecstasy and desperation he couldn’t seem to care. That distant pain was so far away in comparison to the present pleasure.  
  
  
  
The blond rolled his lips over his penis and he sucked along it slowly, bobbing his head more vigorously when those desirable fingers tangled in his hair and pulled him in. Draco’s fingers dotingly traced along the backs of Harry’s legs until they reached round and grasped his firm backside.  
  
  
  
“Hmm, your arse is clenching around something that isn't even there…”  
  
  
  
Twitching, Harry groaned loudly at his teasing, but his concerns seemed to deplete the more pleasure Draco’s tongue inflicted. Draco pulled back then suddenly, Harry’s cock jumping upwards and bouncing eagerly in midair. He looked up at Harry and met his gaze again, intense shudders passing over his neck as he hissed, “Tell me you want me to suck your cock, Mr Malfoy. Tell me. Tell me how you want me to make you cum?”  
  
  
  
Harry let out a whining sound of frustrated pleasure, closing his eyes and looking away before he could find his words. “S-suck it – my cock – _please,_ s-so _close_ …I can’t take it anymore!” He panted, his legs were shaking, a weird, fluttery feeling swelling in his stomach. _You’re going to give your baby a headache with all the tension in there,_ he thought dazedly, spreading his legs a little in silent invitation, hoping Draco would get the unspoken hint of what else he wanted.  
  
  
  
There was no way he could say _that_ out loud…  
  
  
  
But then Draco leant in, his hand smoothing over the back of Harry’s thigh, Harry squirmed, willing that touch to shift elsewhere. He groaned in frustration. “Fingers…” He gasped out sheepishly, not elaborating any further, not physically able to force the words out, even when he felt Draco’s breath on his cock once more.  
  
  
  
“Hmm? What’s that, Harry? You want my fingers hmm, where?” Draco teased, seeing the humiliation flood though his cheeks as he continued to mouth the purpled end. Draco knew what he wanted all right and was more then willing to reward Harry if he could just ask for it. Draco slid his fingers underneath Harry’s quivering thigh, running it dryly over that wrinkled, tight ring. He felt Harry’s cheeks clench under his touch. “You want them that badly, hm?” Draco giggled. His other hand sliding underneath to stretch his cheeks apart as he lowered mouth back over his cock and took it deep into his throat.  
  
  
  
“Hmm! Hnngg!” He moaned, the cock thickening and invading against his throat – and Draco welcomed it. “I love the way you taste,” he panted as he drew back with an embarrassing wet _‘smack’_ of his lips.  
  
  
  
Harry groaned deeply at those words, not sure why they affected him so deeply, sending rumbling thrills up his spine and making him arch into that mouth spoiling his cock. “Y-Yes,” he answered hazily, “Yes I want them…please, make me cum soon, I can’t bear it!” His hole was still slick from his own touch earlier and he writhed manically at another’s touch there, sliding into his hot channel to massage the dimple of flesh that made his vision haze.  
  
  
  
“I – It…f-feels… _nicer when you do it_ ,” he whispered the last part, the sound barely audible above the sounds of the shower, escaping him before his lust-crazed mind could stop them. He’d feel ridiculous later, but right now he could care less. The water intensified it all, like hundreds of tormenting licks down his hypersensitive body, his blood pumping furiously through his veins as he urged Draco deeper on both accounts of pleasure. “M-More…make me cum! I’m going to burst!”  
  
  
  
“Well I _am_ more experienced at this. You want to cum do you?” He added with a sneer. Raising his hand to his lips, he mouthed the digit wetly until it was dripping under Harry’s gaze and fed it between those slender legs which tensed slightly. “Open your legs wider,” He instructed and slowly, uncertainly, Harry’s legs parted for him, giving him the chance to prove him worthy of the trust he was so desperate to earn back.  
  
  
  
With his head swimming with desire, he pressed his saliva coated index finger against the twitching pink star. Harry quivered, each time the finger probed deeper and he pressed back into him, hungry for more. “You want my fingers? Where then?”  
  
  
  
“I-In my arse!” Harry groaned wantonly, pressing down into his fingers, his lashes fluttering and his eyes finding Draco’s, as if to plead his need. As their gazes met, Draco’s first digit slid in all the way, Harry’s hot, moist body swallowing him down eagerly and twitching for more. The digit curled, caressing his special place and Harry gasped, clenching hungrily around it.  
  
  
  
“S-Stop playing games…please, hurry up,” he pleaded, his words almost a whimper as Draco’s thumb teased his perineum, his tongue gliding over the purpling head of his erection. “I’ll do – whatever you want but I need it please…”  
  
  
  
 _Whatever I want?_  
  
  
  
“ _Whatever_ I want?” He asked aloud this time, to which Harry was nodding vigourously, he knew all of the things Draco would probably ask in return and he'd probably regret it. But in that moment, his blistering, white-hot need was driving him into the crater of oblivion and he could care less. “Hmm, fine then,” Draco agreed huskily, tugging Harry’s leg and spinning his body around, forcing him to face the cold tiled wall. His nipples tightened into hard peaks as they were pressed into the tiles and Harry hissed in pleasure.  
  
  
  
Draco reached both his hands down and parted the boy's legs finally pulling his own soaked pyjama bottoms away from his now naked. With a slow thrust he pushed forwards and grinded his cock along the crease between Harry’s cheeks, the friction pushing his foreskin back over his leaking tip when he leant forwards and whispered, “So you want this in your bum?” But the words were softer this time, as if he were trying to make sure Harry actually wanted it.  
  
  
  
Harry dropped his upper body shamefully into the cold tiles, turning his cheek to hide his face as he nodded, spreading his legs wider to accommodate. Draco’s hand caressed the round globes of his arse and he gasped at the tender, teasing touch, hearing Draco chuckle when his hole twitched hungrily for him. He nodded again when Draco still hadn’t moved, “T-Too long…” He whispered. When had he changed so much, become such a wanton slut that he craved this? Missed it?  
  
  
  
 _Hormones,_ he tried to tell himself, even as he reached back to spread his cheeks apart with his hands. _Increased blood flow and sensitivity!_ But he was frighteningly aware that he was enjoying this, so much that his cock actually hurt now.  
  
  
  
He heard Draco’s breath hitch at the sight of him opening himself and he pushed back then, hot, piercing tingles racing through his every pore at the feel of Draco between the valley of his cheeks. He grit his teeth then, his mind spiralling into the fog of lust to be forgotten, and the arousal taking hold of his words. “D-Don’t you want me?” He pleaded impatiently. Draco had kept a respectful distance the last few weeks, perhaps that was what made the desire for contact even stronger.  
  
  
  
“Heh, yes, I do want you. I want to feel your _tight arse_ sucking my cock dry, Mr _Malfoy,_ ” Draco groaned, his wet head brushing up against that twitching flesh below. He leant in and bit Harry’s earlobe tormentingly. “You want me to use lube?” His fingers tickled around the area just outside his ring as he spoke, asking his opinion on every little step of the way…  
  
  
  
Harry nodded, throwing his head back in desperation and Draco reached above for the bottle of moisturiser on the shelf. “Hmm, it may not be lube, but it will do,” He all-but purred, squirting the moisturiser into his hands and rubbing it between Harry’s cheeks. “Hope you're ready for my cock, it's grown since you last had it, you might not be able to take it,” Draco teased, his smug lips parted with panting breaths.  
  
  
  
Harry flinched at the initial sting of the moisturiser but the heat of Draco’s touch quickly chased it away. “I c-can take _anything_ you dish out, Malfoy,” Harry retorted huskily, bowing his head, his mouth opening in a circle of pleasure as the head of Draco’s cock, swollen with lust pressured his tight opening. _Bloody hell,_ he thought, _he does feel bloody bigger_ , and although he knew it was because he hadn’t had it in a good many weeks it didn’t appease the stretching sensations licking across the taut skin of his opening.  
  
  
  
“Y-You’re… _God_ …you’re stretching me,” He panted, finding his treacherous body _liking_ the feeling, and his cock jerked as the thick head popped through his tight ring. A low groan tumbled through Draco’s lips from above.  
  
  
  
“Your prissy little bum _loves_ my cock stretching you. And you have been denying youreself for too long, hmm?” No matter what, he was always going to be a smug bastard in sex, it didn't matter what Harry did, that would never change, he was sure of it. Draco bit into the side of his lip in release of the building thrill as he pushed his thick pulsing shaft into that entrance.  
  
  
  
The head popped in and those slick, frantically clenching walls sucked the purple tip eagerly, encasing him with velvet heat, all the way to the hilt as he slid deep inside. The fullness wrung a gasp from Harry’s rosy lips and Draco swore he felt his prick _throb_ at the sound.  
  
  
  
“My cock is in your arse just like you wanted…move on it?”  
  
  
  
Harry let out a low, distressed sound, bracing his arms on the tiles and pushing back onto Draco’s hardness. He closed his eyes, if he did he felt safe from the embarrassment of Draco watching him be so… He didn’t want to think of the word. “N-No,” he panted, even as he grinded his hips back into Draco’s body, swallowing him readily and crying out in a mixture of relief and ecstasy every time he took him in deep. His walls clenched around him, milking little groans from the man above him and he frowned dazedly. He couldn’t do it fast enough.  
  
  
  
“I – I can’t!” He growled out in frustration, Draco chuckled behind him and Harry felt his need coil in his gut. He needed to cum. “Making me do all the work, Mr Malfoy?” Harry prodded huskily, “Don’t tell me you’ve lost your touch in the last few weeks?”  
  
  
  
Draco growled, forcing his cock up hard in one sharp jerk. “Me? Lose my touch?” He chuckled, withdrawing slowly, dragging those hot walls with him before rushing back in hard, again and again. “You know I haven’t, just look at the way your body is shuddering around me, hmm? Don't even try to suggest I could lose the touch your body longs for.”  
  
  
  
His thick cock plunged wetly into that ready body and he moved harder inside, holding Harry’s hips to keep from ramming him into the wall. The feelings rising up inside him, spiralling through his web of veins, they were tingly and hot – _overwhelming._ The water from the shower thundered down over them, like hundreds of worshipping fingers over their skin, the sounds of the pounding water mingling with their cries.  
  
  
  
“Merlin, you're tight,” Draco gasped, resting his cheek against the sweaty nape of that neck.  
  
  
  
Harry’s insides tightened at those words, his balls drawing up against his body, heavy with the need for climax. “Y-Yessss…like that, fuck me – like you _mean it_ ,” Harry hissed, throwing Draco’s words back at him, his fingers scrambling for purchase on the smooth tiles. Pressing his forearm into the wall underneath his ribcage, he took the weight of those thrusts on it, protecting his stomach from touching the tiles as well as using it as leverage to push back eagerly.  
  
  
  
His insides clung to Draco’s cock every time he pulled back and sucked him back hungrily afterwards, the sound of skin meeting skin resonating through the shower, far above the sound of the water.  
  
  
  
“Ahhh! F-Fuck!” Draco gasped, his cock hitting that place deep inside that made that tight chute squeeze him mercilessly. “I _bloody mean it_! I-I'm fucking you, _Harry Malfoy_ ,” he growled possessively, “Like I _mean it, Merlin, you're so tight, ahh!_ ”The water from the shower raced down their skin in heavy rivulets, curving around every muscle as it trickled down the most intimate part of there joined bodies.  
  
  
  
“Ahh! Tell me you love my cock, tell me you like it deep in your arse!” He panted, one of his hands sliding round the front to grasp Harry’s own neglected organ. “So hard for me, hmm?!”  
  
  
  
“I – I like it – I want it – _deeper_!” Harry whispered, tossing his head in confused pleasure as Draco fisted his painful hardness, and he clenched tightly down on Malfoy to try and bring him off too. His body quivered, legs trembling from the effort of holding him up. He thrust his hips back with desperate gyrations, crying out. “Let me cum – make me – I’m so hard it hurts – make me _please_!”  
  
  
  
If sex with Draco had always been like this, this passion without the pain, perhaps he wouldn’t have struggled against it so before. He was still embarrassed, still awkward and they were _not_ in the most ideal situation, but it felt so good – Draco felt so good. _As if he cares about my pleasure as well as his own,_ Harry thought. It wasn’t like before, not at all. It felt like the time he had first tried to show Draco he didn’t have to hurt him, that briefest glimpse of this _other_ Draco seemed to be becoming more permanent…  
  
  
  
Draco giggled slyly at Harry’s tone, “That good?” Draco panted, moving his aching member inside more hastily now. His little blond strands fell forwards over his flustered cheeks as he rubbed his thumb and forefinger around the end of Harry’s swollen helmet, pressing the tips together every now under the crown as he stoked along it. “I'm going to make you burst…” Draco promised huskily, reveling in Harry’s ecstasy.  
  
  
  
It felt like he had started out with Harry’s pleasure to make him pliant, but with that body quivering under him around him, trusting him, he realised it had never felt so good. He wanted Harry’s pleasure, not just his own. “Whose cock is inside you, _Malfoy_? Say the name of the one making your tight little place quiver – say it.”  
  
  
  
“Oh _God!_ ” Harry groaned deeply through clenched teeth, his body spiralling into spasms of ecstasy. “Yes, m-make me – Malfoy – _Draco_ , fuck me – fuck my arse and make me cum!” He felt Draco’s heat pulse in his arse in response, felt his thrusts move harder and more desperately against him, those fingers swiping over the head of his swollen prick. “N-Never – I’ve never felt…!” He choked on his words as he felt the heat rise in his lower body and bolting through his veins. “It’s – I’m cumming!”  
  
  
  
His hand not supporting his body flew down to Draco’s wrist, joining his hand in jerking him to completion. “D-Don’t – Draco, don’t stop!”  
  
  
  
Draco tightened his grip over Harry’s cock, pounding it faster and faster, his own balls slapping against Harry’s arse with every thrust now. “Ahh… Bloody hell!” Draco groaned. Everything was swelling, heart race, pulse thumping, building up to something incredible. “ _Merlin_ , Harry, ahh…! Cum for me and I'll cum in you, I'll spread my semen in your greedy little arse!”  
  
  
  
Harry’s stomach went over, it surrendered to the onslaught of sensations and he cried out brazenly, pulsing hotly in Draco’s hands before spilling himself over those deft fingers, slumping to the ground. He panted manically for breath, his mind spiralling in the sensuous oblivion as his arse clenched spasmodically around Draco’s prick, swallowing him, twitching around him.  
  
  
  
“C-Cum…!” Harry managed out hazily, his forearm bruised from where he braced himself (and protected his stomach) but not coherent enough to care. “I-In me! Cum in me! Fill…me…!”  
  
  
  
 “Ahhh, oh Merlin!” Draco yelled, his hand covered with a sticky hot substance and his own cock sweltering and heavy. “So - so _close_...!” Draco moved in more desperately now, hugging Harry close to his own body as something swept up through the core of his cock. “So close! C-Cumming…ahhh!” The slytherin jolted forwards with a pant, his cock exploding in a white hazy mess inside the body that was still tightly squeezing on him. He slipped forwards at the feeling, his entire body shuddering and tingling with goosebumps, with amazement as he rested against Harry’s back softly. His heart raced as he stood there for a moment, the sensations of the afterglow burning his very insides with pure bliss. Aching almost, he surrendered to the delirious pleasure and he melted against Harry’s damp skin, drinking in the moment.  
  
  
  
Harry squirmed out from under Malfoy, sure it wouldn’t be recommended in _What to Expect When You’re A Man and Expecting_ to be crushed into the shower wall. To his credit, Draco moved back immediately. Harry, still panting heavily, glanced up at him sheepishly from under thick, damp lashes and turned off the water before reaching out of the shower to grasp a towel. There was a long, pregnant pause before Harry dared chance speech.  
  
  
  
“So…I…” His nose wrinkled as he struggled to overcome his pride. But doubted Draco would forget his promise, despite it being made in the throes of passion, and it was better to meet it head on rather than allow the possibility to loom in the background. “I said anything, what is it that you want?” His cheeks flushed darkly. “In return, I mean…?”  
  
  
  
After a moment of extended thought, he got his answer.  
  
  
  
“Get on the bed,” Draco said, both of them stepping out of the shower. Harry didn’t bother to dry himself whereas Draco reached for the towel and ruffled it through his damp blond hair. Harry walked ahead, setting himself out on the bed quickly, anxiety swelling in his gut. What was Draco going to ask for?  
  
  
  
Draco leant against the doorframe, staring at him darkly, with a smile Harry would know all too well.  
  
  
  
Eventually, his Gryffindor courage forced Harry to glance up to Draco who stood on the threshold still. Harry shimmied back on the bed and leant into the pillows. He was left wondering what Draco would desire, nervousness fluttering in his still twitching body. He had said _anything_ , and was regretting it now. Draco was staring at him from the doorway. What debauched thing would he reduce him to? _What if it…if it ruins the…the afterglow of what just happened?_  
  
  
  
But Draco moved suddenly and Harry jumped at the suddenness of it, a peculiar feeling rumbling deep in his belly. He frowned at the feeling, wondering if it was the sight of that smile (smile not smirk) on Draco’s lips that had caused it, but it felt different to that. Draco was by the bed now and Harry made to move to bring more space between them, but then those cool grey eyes flittered up to his, an odd desire that was in no way sexual glistening there, so Harry remained.  
  
  
  
He inhaled uncertainly when Draco lay on his side beside him, propping himself up on his elbow to support his head as his eyes danced over his body. He was so tempted to grab the covers and cover himself, not really liking Draco to examine him so closely, particularly the slight bulge of his stomach which he still felt looked odd on his scrawny _male_ body.  
  
  
  
 _What’s he going to…?_  
  
  
  
But he found the answer then, as Draco’s other hand was brought up slowly, those eyes glancing up to him, as if concerned about a refusal, before that warm palm slid over Harry’s stomach.  
  
  
  
“It's amazing, that there's…life…in there. Life, _we made_ ,” Draco said, running his hand over the bump. For a moment Harry stilled, unnerved and uncomfortable when Draco pressed his ear onto it carefully. Harry felt those blond locks lightly tickle his stomach when Draco’s head met it.  
  
  
  
Draco began to caress the bump, slowly stroking his hands over the small shape that had formed in the passing weeks. His eyes seemed to glisten in the artificial light as he lay there with his head rested on his belly. “This is my request, to stay like this, just for a while.” He was uneasily silent for a moment and then added, “I know you don’t like it but I – I'll give you as much sex as you like, if I get this in return?”  
  
  
  
Harry felt a horrid plummeting feeling in his stomach, that he had assumed the worst of him and all he had wanted was this closeness. A closeness that he was bargaining sex for. The pleasure that had filled his body felt wrong now somehow, he hadn’t deserved it. He had taken what Draco offered, but where the blond had refrained from touching and intimacy and had made him comfortable in the last few weeks, Harry, in return had made him feel as if he weren’t even allowed _this_ …  
  
  
  
He clenched his eyes shut, melancholy piercing his eyes. He had become such a bitter person, he wondered how it was that even _Draco_ wanted him at all. “Y-You don’t…you don’t have to bargain me. I – It’s your baby too, you can touch when you want it’s…it’s alright, if it’s you.” He felt stupid for saying that, for the way he stumbled over his words, but the way Draco looked at him stopped any awkwardness. He had never felt this, felt someone touching him so tenderly and it shocked him into stillness.  
  
  
  
Harry inhaled deeply, feeling oddly soothed by Draco’s caresses, as if the touches were meant to appease his self-loathing and anxiety rather than to feel the baby. “Thank you for earlier,” he breathed, closing his eyes, suddenly feeling very exhausted again. “It was…intense,” he admitted, not really deeming it the right word, and not really sure that that experience, as bone-shattering as it had been, even began to compare to the all-too gentle, feather-light touches over his abdomen. His breathing felt soft, eased, and the fact that he was lying completely naked with Draco spooned against him was forgotten in that tenderness…  
  
  
  
“Hmm,” Draco sighed, his eyes drifting over to the clock on the far wall. “I have to go to work,” He said plainly, his head still on his stomach. He turned to face it and placed a kiss on it, before leaning up and smiling against Harry’s lips, not daring to kiss him without invitation and spoil such a tender moment.  
  
  
  
Slowly, he removed himself from the bed and opened his wardrobe, reaching inside for a clean shirt and black tie. “Make sure you eat today…”  
  
  
  
Harry glowered at him in disbelief, sitting up straighter on the bed. He was not feeling annoyed that Draco hadn’t kissed him, not feeling irritated that the tenderness was being torn away and Draco was leaving him alone. No, he most certainly was not. “You – you’re not leaving?” But as Draco climbed into clean clothes, not deeming to answer him, it was quite clear that he _was_ leaving. Harry’s frown intensified. He was all-too aware that Draco had taken numerous days off lately, just to keep him company (not that Harry had asked for it) but being faced with solitude every time he left gave him a bitter taste for his absence.  
  
  
  
“What am I supposed to do while you’re gone?” He asked, the bitterness seeping into his voice. He had been to visit Hermione and Ron on some of Draco’s excursions, but that wasn’t that point. That wasn’t what he wanted right now. What he wanted was…  
  
  
  
 “Rest, relax, I fetched you in a muggle… _te-le-vision_ didn’t I?” Draco reminded him, stuttering over the peculiar muggle name. “Can’t you watch something on that?” Cleary he wasn't as bothered about leaving as Harry seemed to be. “I'll be back around five-ish, I have a couple of things to do after work,” Draco said and suddenly he noticed Harry’s expression from the corner of his eye.  
  
  
  
“What's wrong?”  
  
  
  
“I…” Harry winced. What exactly was so important that Draco had to do after work? What was more important than him–? _The baby_ , he corrected himself. He shook it off then, seizing his maroon dressing gown off the corner of the bed and wrapping it around himself before finding his wand. “Don’t worry, forget it,” he bit out, “Accio Glasses!” The spectacles shot into his hand and he pushed them onto his nose, jumping slightly to see a half-dressed Draco closer than before, standing over him at the side of the bed and watching him thoughtfully.  
  
  
  
“Still here?” Harry hissed, “You were in such a hurry a moment ago. Please, don’t let me keep you, I’m sure I can fill my day with all my housewifely duties – knitting, sewing and darning your bloody socks – please, go to work, _Dear_. And don’t feel the need to hurry back to me if you have more important _acquantances_ to meet with.” He got to his feet, striding past Malfoy and into their lounge area, plucking his daily nutrition potion from the side and downing it angrily.  
  
  
  
 _He badgers me about eating, as if he gives two shits when clearly this morning wasn’t good enough if he still needs to seek his pleasures out elsewhere._ His arm shook as he slammed the empty vial back down on the side-table, whirling around, intent on storming over to the couch, but Draco was in his path, looking confused. _I really believed him when he said I was the only…_ He stopped himself, just because Draco had been more considerate the last few weeks, just because he had been so tender just then, it didn’t mean anything – at least not to Draco, evidently.  
  
  
  
And if he had been so considerate and respectful, that could only be because he was getting it elsewhere already,  
  
  
  
Draco felt affronted. What was this sudden attitude? “Fine,” He said simply, much to Harry’s dislike and watched him shove past. His mind boggled. What had he done? Had Harry not wanted the sex he seemed to beg for desperately? _Is he suddenly annoyed at me for wanting to touch the baby?No, he seemed quite content with it ten minutes ago! So what the hell is going on?_  
  
  
  
Draco growled in frustration and slammed the bureau shut furiously, storming after Harry. “I don't know why you're so concerned all of a sudden where I go. What's with this attitude?  
  
  
  
“Of course you don’t know why I’m so concerned. Why on earth would your perfect little wife be bothered that you rush off after this morning, leaving me with fuck all to do all day but to wait for you and twiddle my thumbs?! I thought I’d become more than just your convenient prisoner here in the last few weeks but obviously I was wrong. If I’m still your slave, treat me like one, don’t coddle me and kiss me if you don’t mean it – I’m not bloody stupid, I _know_ what you’re up to!”  
  
  
  
Fuming, he marched back into the bedroom, Draco following him closely. Snarling under his breath, Harry snatched his wand off the side casting a non-verbal Accio. Condoms burst out of the side drawer and Harry snatched them off the side, turning on his heel to throw them at Malfoy. “There, don’t forget our marriage contract – you have to use protection when you play away after work, _Sweetheart_! Don’t worry about me while you’re gone, I’m sure I can count the wall-tiles in the bathroom again!”  
  
  
  
As the final packet fell to the floor after hitting Draco in the chest, he flew at Harry, grinding to a halt just in front of him, as if he’d suddenly seized his temper by the collar. Harry tumbled back onto the bed in reaction, glaring up into those stormy eyes which widened with a mix of confusion and anger. Draco’s hands flew down to pin his wrists to the mattress. “What? Are you actually _jealous_?” Draco’s eyes narrowed then, seeing the look on Harry’s face gave him the answer to that question. “You are?” Harry remained silent and so Draco, struggling to suppress his anger reverted back to the former accusations.  
  
  
  
“I'm not up to _anything_ , I have a few things to do, that’s all. And those _things_ that I have to do don't involve _fucking_ anyone else. Why would I even need to have anyone else if you let me have you?”  
  
  
  
Harry’s cheeks suffused with colour of fury and embarrassment and he turned his head to the side, his jaw clenched. “You told me at the start you would have me as well as anyone else you pleased,” he reasoned, his voice stiff, but he couldn’t actually say it, couldn’t admit he was jealous aloud. “Wouldn’t you be pissed off if you thought I was doing things with someone else? Not that I physically _can_ with the contract – it’s nice and secure for you, isn’t it? I’m stuck here waiting for you to come back, bored and fucking miserable for all you care, while you can do as you please!” He struggled to shove Draco off of him, but the grip on his wrists tightened, pinning him without really hurting him.  
  
  
  
He’d asked Narcissa aside a little while ago now, asked her why it had worked out that he, Harry naturally got the submissive role. He had helped them hadn’t he? Kept them out of Azkaban? His answer of course, was that Draco had written it into their marriage contract and he, Harry, hadn’t even _thought_ it’d possible to dispute any of it. He had gotten himself in this position, as the submissive in _everything_ because he’d been too tired to fight anymore…  
  
  
  
He knew when someone was trying to subdue him and it infuriated him that Draco couldn’t even see where this had stemmed from. “I don’t like being left alone here to stew while you run off to _Merlin_ knows where! If you weren’t fucking anybody then why so damn secretive? Why not tell me what you’re doing? Or are they matters unsuitable for your delicate little _wife_ ,” he practically spat the last part, not really understanding, deep down, why he was feeling so angry and betrayed.  
  
  
  
 _Because he lured you into a sense of security, he startled you with those touches,_ his mind whispered, _and you don’t know why you liked them but you didn’t want them to stop!_ But still, no reason to be so furious…it was all just escalating.  
  
  
  
“I'm going to bloody work and then after work, I was going to do something _special – for you_!” Draco stopped there, annoyed. He practically choked on the word _special_ and felt ridiculous for saying so, or even thinking of doing something nice for him in the first place. He had just been reminded why he wasn't ever romantic and why he _was_ as Harry seemed to think, the man who did what he wanted and fucked who he wanted, regardless of consequence. He drew away from Harry spitefully and picked up the condom packet, looking at it and grinning cruely, before placing it in his pocket.  
  
  
  
“But forget that stupid idea, you’re right, I was stupid to think I could surprise you, could do something nice without it turning to _shit_ , and you're right, I'd rather be out fucking a fit bar tart anyway…”  
  
  
  
Guilt plummeting in his gut like a sack of bricks, Harry reached for his arm, yanking him back to face him. “You liked me giving myself to you willingly, didn’t you? _Didn’t you_?” He demanded, a furious pain burning in his gut. “You promised me if we were going to do this I’d be – be the only one. If you touch anyone else I’ll never touch you again – _ever_ do you hear me?! You’re _my_ husband. You will not bloody leave me at home pregnant while you fuck someone else!”  
  
  
  
His pride burnt his throat to ash, his voice raw. “I didn’t – didn’t mean to assume. But I can’t stand being here alone, you don’t – you don’t get it! This is your house, not mine, I have nothing here when you are…” He cut himself off promptly, realising how _‘I have nothing here when you are gone’_ sounded. He grit his teeth, dropping his grip on Draco’s wrists uselessly. He was _not_ about to tell Draco how he felt someone watching him every moment he was alone, how bored and _paranoid_ he felt…  
  
  
  
 _No more excuses,_ he thought resolutely. If he hadn’t used his parents’ deaths as an excuse for his mistakes in the past, he wouldn’t use his hormones as an excuse for overreacting.  
  
  
  
Draco shrugged Harry off, spitefully pulling his hand falling from his shoulder, he may have been a changed man over the last few weeks, but that pride of his remained. “I'm going to be late for work,” He said coldy, blanking Harry and picking his wand up from the side-table. He turned his face from him and aimed for the door. His gut trembling with a sensation he didn't like with each step he took. Why couldn't he just accept his apology? Why did he always have to storm off to save his pride? Why did he always have to feel like this?  
  
  
  
Harry watched him head for the door, that pain clenching in his stomach again and he bolted forwards, his hand shooting out and slamming the door shut just as Draco made to open. The blond whirled on his feet to find himself caught between Harry and the door. “Y-You’re working hard, I understand that,” Harry murmured huskily, “But I’m… I don’t like being alone here, with these thoughts and this _body_.” There he had as good as said it, and if Draco didn’t read between the lines and deduct that Harry didn’t want him to go then…  
  
  
  
“I didn’t like the way you jumped straight out of bed after what happened, as if it was nothing,” he added then, his eyes staring into Draco’s intently.  
  
  
  
Draco glared down at Harry’s bump. “There's nothing _wrong_ with your body, stop referring to yourself as if you're a _freak_!” Draco snapped, clearly annoyed at the way Harry was acting. “I have to go to work today, they need me, they are so behind because I have taken so much time off already,” Draco explained. But Harry didn't seem to think that was good enough excuse by the look on his face. Wasn't _he_ more important? It wasn't like Malfoy couldn't afford to take the time off, he was made of money afterall.  
  
  
  
“Now, get out of the way!” Draco insisted, since Harry was blocking the door still.  
  
  
  
“How can you be such different people?!” Harry growled, not budging an inch. “You lecture me for not owning up to my responsibilities a few weeks ago but now you can’t…you can’t even meet me half way! I apologised for misunderstanding and I – I had the bloody nerve to tell you what was wrong at the risk of you laughing in my face! You said you wanted me, didn’t you? I thought you’d be bloody ecstatic that I wanted you to bloody stay!”  
  
  
  
He glared darkly at Draco. It had all ended somewhere horrid, had ruined the feeling he had only wanted to prolong and they were both at fault.  
  
  
  
“I don't need this right now, you only want me to stay when it's convenient to you, you're _hardly a saint_ , Harry, give me a real reason or get out of my way.” He watched Harry’s eyes flicker with confussion. Draco’s locked with them but still he reached across and grasped Harry’s shoulder, attempting to push him sideways.  
  
  
  
“Move!”  
  
  
  
“I’m not saying I’m a saint, I know I’ve done wrong but at least I’m being honest!” Harry declared, shoving Draco backwards and stalking over to the bathroom door. “But go, if my needs aren’t reason enough, the needs of the person you claim to care so much about. Maybe you only _want me_ when it’s ‘convenient for you’,” Harry snarled, throwing the words back in his face. He’d given up, not entirely sure he wanted Draco to stay if he was so set against it.  
  
  
  
 _It doesn’t mean sod-all if he’s being forced_ , he thought, wrenching open the bathroom door.  
  
  
  
“Piss off, if you want to leave it all like this, but maybe your perfect little house wife won’t be waiting for you when you come back!” With that he marched into the bathroom and slammed the door. He stood there for a moment, his back to the door, panting heavily and allowing his eyes to flutter closed as he waited. But Draco didn’t try to open the door…  
  
  
  
  
  
Draco felt the same buzz of anger draw up over him, his fists tightened and growling frustratedly, he opened the door to their suite at last, making sure to slam it particularly hard on his way out. The sound of the door richochetting off the frame echoed throughout the manor and Harry knew he had gone.  
  
  
  
 _Bastard_ , he thought.  
  
  
  
Harry winced at the sense of hurt swelling in his chest, resisting the temptation to sink down to the floor and stay there. He was not the perfect person to share a life with he was sure, but Draco’s mood swings were giving him whiplash. It’s wasn’t entirely impossible to think that _he_ was the pregnant one. _And he left,_ Harry thought, not really thinking he would. _He really left me in all this mess!_ _He didn’t command me to stay or…anything._ His insides knotted at the resonating sound of Draco using the word _freak_ , that particular insult striking hard, worse than being called a slut or whatever else Draco had called him. The insult the Dursleys had used for sixteen long years…  
  
  
  
 _They hated me,_ Harry thought, _Draco doesn’t hate me, does he?_  
  
  
  
That same cramp twisted Harry’s stomach and he flinched, wondering if it were a specific pain or if he really just didn’t like arguing. He reached down into his dressing gown, rubbing his stomach in slow circles (like Draco had done) in an attempt to soothe the pain. He reached for the door with the other hand, careless of his clothes hanging open now that he was alone, and pushed it open. Maybe he would go lie down for a bit, his body was already aching with exhaustion after this morning…  
  
  
  
The door opened and he jumped, his heart leaping into his throat to find someone standing there. A scream ripped from his lips before he could stop himself and he jerked back, gasping for air as panic thundered through his veins.  
  
  
  
“Good morning, Harry,” came the cool, icy voice of his father-in-law. Those piercing eyes scanned him and Harry swallowed hard, drawing his hand from his stomach and tying his dressing-gown more securely around himself.  
  
“Morning,” Harry answered reluctantly, not really sure what else to say. Lucius avoided him as a rule, why was he seeking him out now? Nodding a little, he excused himself to move from the bathroom and to the lounge where it felt less… _awkward_ to talk to Lucius, who, of course followed.  
  
  
  
“Can I help you with something?” Harry asked as politely as he could manage, “Draco just went to work, he’ll be back later, if you wanted to see him.”  
  
  
  
“No, Harry.” His given name sounded almost acidic on that vile tongue. The older blond man tilted his head to one side as he spoke, his arms out straight and resting on his cane. “I came to see you, not Draco.” His voice sounded sly, like this was all going somewhere Harry was _sure_ he wouldn’t like. He took a seat on the sofa, gesturing for Harry to sit next to him. Harry didn’t acknowledge the silent request.  
  
  
  
For a moment, there was merely an uncomfortable silence. Lucius’s eyes were fixed on Harry, who couldn’t stop fidgeting, wanting to edge away from the situation. “Hmm,” Lucius said at last, ice-smooth voice cutting through the silence. “You are starting to show now, aren't you?” He whispered eerily, brushing a lock of hair from one side of Harry’s forehead to caress his lightning scar.  
  
  
  
“Only without my clothes,” Harry stated, edging back out from under Lucius’s touch when he realised that that had been the _completely_ the wrong thing to say. He was all-too conscious of the fact that Draco seemed to never allow him to be alone with his father, as if the very thought concerned him, and he, Harry took another step back, wishing he had brought his wand in from the bedroom. But Lucius wouldn’t hurt him, couldn’t, surely? Draco would...  
  
  
  
 _Would Draco do anything?_ He wondered. _Would he care? This is his father.._.  
  
  
  
“You can’t tell when I am dressed, it just looks like I’ve gained a bit of weight,” Harry reasoned, wishing this man would leave him in peace...  
  
  
  
 _Why does he suddenly want to talk to me now? He can’t spare two minutes for Draco or the baby usually?_  
  
  
  
“Is that so?” He said, raising a brow and lifting his cane to bring up the bottom of Harry’s shirt, exposing his stomach. He gazed at the small bump sickeningly but before Harry could swat him away, Lucius drew the cane back himself, sighing as if disappointed. “Indeed,” He added. “Do you even _want_ this child, Harry? Devilish, disappointing creatures they are at most. You have to make sure you discipline them from day one or they learn nothing.” His voice was chilling, almost creepy. It gave Harry the chills. He had that same intense look that Draco held, only his was worse! Crueler, merciless. How could someone like Narcissa end up with him?  
  
  
  
Harry swatted his cane away nastily, nearly knocking it clean out of the blond’s hand. “I am not the twelve-year-old boy you tried to intimidate in Flourish and Blotts, Mr Malfoy,” Harry snarled, “I’ve faced men and tortures far scarier than _you_ , a failed death eater who grovelled at the Minister’s feet to stay out of Azkaban. You’re nothing but a bully and I’m not like Dobby, not like your son, I won’t be your victim!” He stepped back then, moving to return to the bedroom (and his wand) but that cane caught the crook of his elbow, whirling him back round to face him.  
  
  
  
“Not so fast, _Potter_ ,” The older Malfoy said, “Since when did you get such an attitude? Has my Draco been too soft with you? Perhaps you need a reminder if you think you can speak to me that way on my own property…”  
  
  
  
Grabbing Harry’s shirt, Lucius pulled him in close and reached his gloved hand down slowly, gasping as he caught the thing hanging between Harry’s legs through just his clothes. Green eyes widened in a mixture of shock and horror when the man began caressing him. “That’s right…discipline…”  
  
  
  
“I – I’m not your possession!” Harry sneered, shoving his shoulders roughly and stumbling back into the bedroom door, he scrambled for the handle, but didn’t make it in time, before Lucius seized a clump of his hair at the base of his neck and yanked him backwards, throwing him onto the couch.  
  
  
  
“Don’t toss me about!” Harry demanded. “Draco is my husband and he doesn’t treat me this way – why should _you_?!” He clenched his teeth around that last part. Draco hadn’t treated him this way for a while, even when he got angry, Harry was handled carefully, as something precious almost...  
  
  
  
He swallowed hard, tugging his dressing gown tighter around him. “I’m, pregnant you _tosser_ , be careful!”  
  
  
  
Lusious rolled his glove off one hand and raced towards him, both hands slamming down either side of Harry’s head on the sofa as his crooked smile widened menacingly. He reached down and tugged at the knot Harry had just fastened until it loosened. “So you _do_ care about the baby? I got the impression on many occasions that you could care less.” He said in a slow, wanring tone. His sly eyes narrowed then as he reached back down. Harry’s hands flew down, seizing his wrist to stop him.  
  
  
  
“Hmm, that’s no good, now is it? _Incarcerous_!” Ropes burst from the end of his wand, binding Harry’s hands together behind his head and his legs tightly together. With that Harry shoved his bound feed hard into Lucius’s groin, causing him to stumble backwards. Lucius gave a furious snarl, raising his wand again. “ _Locomotor Mortis_!” Harry’s legs locked together tightly, dead still. “Now try and kick me you dirty-blooded _mongrel_!”  
  
  
  
Harry winced, his teeth clenching as he strained to move, but he could not. His body arched forwards uselessly, but he could not break free. Helplessness, _panic_ seized him by the throat and he let out a choked cry, his hands tensing where they were bound, struggling to summon his wand, but as it flew towards him, it collided with his head, falling uselessly to the floor. His hands were bound too tightly behind his head to grasp his wand.  
  
  
  
“What the – what are you doing?!” He growled out, the fire of fear and courage blazing alongside each other in his voice. His eyes glowed brilliantly. He had faced torture before, there was nothing Lucius could think of that would shock him. _But it might shock the baby,_ he realised abruptly. “I – If you hurt me you’re hurting your grandchild too!” He tried to reason with him, never stopping in his struggles.  
  
  
  
The older man didn't seem to have even registered the mention of his grandchild. Not once did he say a thing about it or respond to the mentiong of it, and this time was just the same. He grinned evily, lifting Harry’s locked legs up, leaving the boy’s limp cock and arse vulnerable to his gaze. Lucius sneered. “So this is what my son has been entertaining himself with, hmm? I must say I am a little disappointed, especially for someone with such a famous name…”  
  
  
  
Harry tensed at that and the blond looming over him smiled, running his head of his cane down over Harry’s slightly round stomach. The head of the cane, _the snake part_ , caught on the end of Harry’s penis when he ran it down over it. Lightly tugging the foreskin up spitefully.  
  
  
  
“I would ask you to spread your legs, but it seems you _cannot_. I suppose I will have to do it for you,” He purred, adjusting the ropes to bind his ankles to his wrists instead, leaving that used hole open and naked under his gaze. Harry knew what he was looking at, he could practically _feel_ his eyes on that place!  
  
  
  
Harry’s eyes widened with the realisation that Lucius was molesting him, perhaps worse and he snarled in his bonds, writhing on the couch in an attempt at freedom. The ropes bit spitefully into his wrists but that did not stop him. It was different with Draco, never like this, not even the first time. “G-Get _off_ of me you dirty old man!” Harry screamed, “I – I’m your bloody son-in-law! I – I’m pregnant! Don’t touch me!!!”  
  
  
  
“Hmm, I have been watching you, _Harry_ , I know you hate my son, do not pretend to act like a doting husband now after all the things he has done to you. And do not pretend as if you want this baby, my wife and I _do talk_ , you realise? I know everything.” The man sneered, drawing his cane along Harry’s taunt stomach, before angling the cane to scrape the tender skin of his belly, drawing a thin line of blood. “I am surprised you are even going through with this. It's not too late, you know, _to get rid of it._ ”  
  
  
  
Harry hissed at the feeling of blood crying free from the scratch on his stomach. “You disgusting _pig_ ,” Harry growled, spitting in the man’s face. “I don’t hate Draco, I never have, whatever he has done to me. And you have no bloody business telling me what to do with my baby, it’s mine and I’ll do as I please with it!” He felt oddly protective of it, he had never felt like this before for it, _ever_. Never presented before with a threat besides his own doubt...  
  
  
  
“Don’t touch me!”  
  
  
  
Lucius sneered distastefully, drawing his ungloved finger down around the limp, exposed organ between Harry’s thighs. “I'll do as I wish,” he said, poking his nail down into the pink tip spitefully. Harry winced, his body tensing uselessly under the spell as the older man loomed over him. That cane drew in again, the snake head gleaming in the light.  
  
  
  
“You should really think about ridding yourself of this baby. It can never be loved by someone like you, or Draco. I do not think he is ready to have a child yet – I can put across the word that you had… _complications_ if that would help…”  
  
  
  
“Who are you to speak of love – you fucking hypocrite!” Harry snarled with as much venom as had ever crossed his lips. “Your own son barely looks at you, your wife doesn’t even _sleep_ with you! I saved everyone’s lives at Hogwarts in that final battle (including your rotten hide) because of love, because of how much I cared, so don’t try that crap with me! And as for Draco – you’ve only got yourself to blame for any of his mistakes, as his _father_. He’s probably doing a better job already than you’ve ever done! At least he hasn’t offered up his only child to his _master_ as a slave!”  
  
  
  
Lucius’s hands pressured him then, squeezing his limp cock unmercifully. But he didn’t surrender. He wasn’t going to cry for this malicious old man...  
  
  
  
“I killed Voldemort, don’t doubt that I will do the same to you – and _worse_ if you hurt my child.” His voice was low, dangerous despite his predicament.  
  
  
  
“Your _mouth_ , Potter, it _needs_ to close now, so unfortunate you had to marry my son and soil our family. You are a disgrace and you always have been.” Clearly Lucius didn't like him, he never had, but Harry had thought that after all he had done to keep his family out of Azkaban, after he had saved Draco _twice_ during the war, he might have been a bit more grateful. Despite their differences.  
  
  
  
That cruel hand grasped his limp organ revoltingly and Harry growled in furious in dignation. The older blond seemed to be getting some strange pleasure seeing him squirm, seeing him angry, annoyed – _helpless_. He and Draco really did have so much in common. The older man’s hand slid lower and pulling his wand from his cane once more, he pressured it into the dry entrance.  
  
  
  
“Are you going to apologise for the way you spoke to me, Harry?” He asked cooly. sliding the tip of his wand inside of him.  
  
  
  
Harry sneered up at him, his arms burning as he strained to break free. “Get the bloody hell _away_ from me!” He demanded, wincing at the feel of Lucius’s cane breaching his entrance, loose and still showing visible evidence of his morning romp with Draco. He flushed in humiliation and fury, screaming at the the righteous, revolting smirk that crossed Lucius Malfoy’s face. “Get your hands off me!” He barked out, but again, only that smirk and a low, ominous chuckle.  
  
  
  
The stick slid into his body then, and Harry winced, not daring to move. “D-Don’t! You don’t know what that could do to – stop it! You might hurt the baby, stop!” That cane was a lot longer and unyielding than Draco, it could do some serious damage if Lucius so wished. He felt desperation claw up his throat then, his fingers biting into the fabric of the couch, that was all he could manage.  
  
  
  
“Hmm, you say that but your loose little hole seems to want more and more of it, as though, it is drawing it in,” The older man taunted. Harry’s eyes were glassy and wide. This was so wrong. Not to mention dangerous! “You would probably like it if I accidently hurt the monster inside you, wouldn't you? That way you could drop this charade and admit you loathe it. Draco does not need to be pulled down by children, you see, particularly not one of your dirty blood. I have things all mapped out for him.”  
  
  
  
Harry’s temper bristled at those words. “Draco wants this child – more than anything, more than me. He was a big enough boy to be forced to kill Dumbledore because you pissed off Voldemort! I think that makes him a big enough man to handle his own life!”  
  
  
  
The cane was shoved forwards brutally in punishment, Lucius’ cool facade never falling, even as Harry screamed, pain lashing across his arms as he wrenched them nearly clean out of his sockets in a fight for freedom. “STOP IT!!! D-Don’t – don’t hurt it I’ll – I’ll _kill_ you!” His hole clenched tightly around it in an attempt to stop it’s further travel, degrading noises sounding loudly in the room as Lucius drew it back, only to plunge it forwards again – fucking him with the snake head at the opposite end. He flinched then, as he felt it go deeper than anything ever had, the shape of his colon resisting the rigid shape. “P-Please! Stop it,” He yielded, hoping that that would be enough to end it.  
  
  
  
Lucius's smile curved up, his sneer was getting wider as he probed that place, the snake head of his wand almost splitting him open when he pushed it inside. “But he never went through with killing Dumbledore of course. At the time, he did let us down – thank goodness for Severus.” Harry hissed at him for that. Snape had not killed Dumbledore because he wanted to! How dare Lucius put it across that way!  
  
  
  
“Harry, my son does not know _what_ he wants the majority of the time. I suppose he is telling you he wants the baby as a means to lure you in. You have no idea what Draco really wants, you probably haven't even asked him why he wants this baby so much.”  
  
  
  
“I _have_ asked him!” Harry snapped  
  
  
  
“Oh? And what did he say?”  
  
  
  
“He said, he…he wanted it. That he couldn't really give me a reason, or a real answer, but he wanted me to keep it!”  
  
  
  
“There you go then, he is probably ashamed of you,” Lucius snarled, pushing the snake head deep and painfully inside until Harry’s bloody sphincter had almost closed around it.  
  
  
  
“No. I could tell by the look on his face he–”  
  
  
  
“Dear boy, you are deluded,” Lucius spat.  
  
  
  
“Stop trying to mess with my head! You're rotten from the inside out! Death eater, that's all you are – Draco was forced into it but you chose it and you'll pay for it in the end!” The sharp, piercing pain tore around his tender entrance and he screamed then, a dry sob leaving his lips. “Stop it! It hurts you… Eric!” A loud crack ripped through the air and the familiar house elf popped up beside him, staring between Lucius and Harry with fear in his large eyes. The beauty of it was that Eric was Draco and Harry’s elf – Lucius couldn't counter his commands.  
  
  
  
“Eric, fetch Draco home for me. Tell him I need him!” He gasped out and the ugly little creature gave Harry a resolute nod before vanishing. _Hurry up_ , Harry mentally pleaded. Lucius loomed above him, but the movements inside Harry’s body stilled. The man was contemplating something…  
  
  
  
The blond fixed Harry with a dark glare, shoving the stick deeper one last time, before wrenching it free mercilessly. Harry screamed as he felt himself tear, and the spells holding him broke with him. Harry rushed to his feet, arm raised to smack that faltering smirk off his face, but before he landed the blow, he found himself being shoved backwards by that ungloved hand.  
  
  
  
“You always were such a whiny little child, weren't you?” Lucius bit out, before apparating from sight. Evidently Narcissa hadn’t included people she trusted in the new reconfiguration of the wards, Harry thought, panting in the silence. He felt himself stiffen, something down there felt _very_ sore.  
  
  
  
The door slammed open as Draco burst in, seeing Harry sitting anxiously in just his dressing gown. He rushed over immediately and seized Harry by his shoulders, panic flooding his system. “What’s wrong? Is it the baby? Is it…?”  
  
  
  
“I – I don't…” Harry winced, shifting on his seat and pulling his only source of comfort around him. It gave no warmth. “You actually – you came?” He breathed, not having been certain that Draco would have. But again, he was pleasantly surprised and he tipped forwards a little, his body swaying, world spinning. He collapsed into Draco’s chest face-first, his breath clawing labouredly against his raw throat.  
  
His face contorted in a wince and he felt blood sting his torn entrance, staining his dressing-gown. But then, he felt Draco stiffen at the sight of it and he panicked. What could he say? Would he even believe Lucius had done this? And if he did, whose side would he take?  
  
  
  
Did Lucius's words concerning Draco have any truth to them?  
  
  
  
“Y-You do want the baby, right?” He asked, his thoughts drowned slowly by a tsunami of throbbing agony.  
  
  
  
“Of course I want it!” Draco hissed and Harry’s head lifted a little then. “What’s wrong? What’s the matter?” He asked, clearly aware that something had happened. Harry was shaking in his grip as he reached forward to hold him back, getting a clearer view of his face.  
  
  
  
“Harry?!”  
  
  
  
Harry shook his head. Those arms, how had they ever hurt him? They felt so comforting, doting like they had felt that morning. They _had_ hurt him though, and that sharp tongue would again, no doubt, but he could care less right now. Somehow in the chaos and the pain, Draco had become all he had, his source of protection from his self-loathing and confusion.  
  
  
  
He chewed his lip anxiously, not knowing what to do. Should he tell Draco? Was that wise? Those grey eyes were studying him anxiously, as if he were his whole world. Harry dropped his gaze, closing his eyes as Draco’s hand slid over his stomach, like he could sense something was wrong. Then, he must have spotted the blood flecked across Harry’s dressing-gown, for he inhaled sharply.  
  
  
  
“H-Harry?!” He gasped, “W-Who – what happend?”  
  
“I – when you left, I turned around to go back into the bedroom and your – your father...” He _sensed_ Draco’s heart stop and ventured to meet that gaze again. His own mouth moved soundlessly, uselessly for a few moments. And then...  
  
  
  
“He said things – did things. H-He told me I should kill the baby and make it look like an accident. I don’t think he wants us to have it, I don’t think he wants you to have me,” he saw then, the sheer horror brimming in those grey orbs and he reached forwards, cupping Draco’s face with his hands. The intimate action seemed to startle Draco and Harry watched him carefully for his reaction. Would he be angry? Would he believe him? “I – I’m telling you the truth! You have to believe me!” He insisted desperately. What would he do if Draco thought he was lying?  
  
  
  
Draco’s eyes brimmed with bone-chilling terror as Harry spoke, his lips seemed to slow down as the words he had just spoken repeated over and over in his head. Draco’s eyes flickered and before he knew it, something wet was clinging to his thick lashes. He gazed down at Harry, almost blindly and something inside him quivered. He pulled him close then, his arms wrapping around his shoulders and he holding him tightly.  
  
  
  
“I – I–” He started, clearly lost for words, “I believe you,” He said. Harry seemed surprised he believed him so easily, especially considering this was his own _father!_ Surprised yes, but relieved and found himself being hugged back. _This feels so strange,_ Draco thought, burying his head in Harry’s shoulder. _Strange, but nice._ When finally he managed to suppress the emotion threatening to break him, Draco pulled back a little to look at Harry.  
  
  
  
“I don't want you to be alone with him, not ever, you hear?” Draco said, glassy eyes narrowing with something between heartbreak and rage. “I–I…” He couldn't seem to catch his breath. “Let's get you checked out as soon as possible.” His head seemed fuzzy, but first thing was first. He needed to know that Harry and the baby were okay.  
  
  
  
Harry nodded slowly, wincing at every movement that irritated his torn entrance. “I can try to get to the floo?” He suggested, but saw Draco shake his head slowly. “Then what? Call her here, you – _we are_ Malfoys, I suppose, there are no limits...” He thought he saw the smallest of smiles dance across Draco’s suddenly pale lips at that, an odd fluttering sensation in his stomach as a result. He cleared his throat needlessly.  
  
  
  
“C-Could you err...help me get out of this rancid thing and into something else before you get her?” He asked warily, gesturing to his bloody dressing-gown. He frowned a little as he stumbled to his feet (determined to do that independently at least) tugging at the bloody hem. He liked this one as well...  
  
  
  
“I can stand and walk – _I think_ ,” He murmured, making for the bedroom door only to feel Draco bolt off of the couch.  
  
  
  
“Don't move too much. Sit back down,” He said suddenly, only to catch Harry in his stumble and settle him back down on the settee. “I'll…I'll get you a fresh set of clothes,” He said heading to the bedroom.  
  
  
  
Something in his stomach was churning overheating with pain, fury, frustration, hate… _fear._ He felt sick, so sick, he wanted to storm down there and kill that man for what he had done. _Kill him_. But the frightened bubble in his stomach was holding him here, making him feel the pathetic child he had once been. How was he supposed to protect his husband and his child from someone he couldn't even face?  
  
  
  
Harry waited on the settee, feeling uncomfortably wet and aching. The pain was making him a bit dizzy now – or was that normal nausea from his morning sickness? He couldn’t decipher between the two. Either way, his pride swelled like a ruffled peacock flaunting it’s feathers and he made it his duty to at least stay upright until Draco came back.  
  
  
  
The bedroom door opened again and Draco returned with clothes and that most blissful invention ever – his wand. A flick of it and his bloody attire was banished and he shivered, only partially from the cold when Draco approached with the light nightshirt. It looked silky to touch and Harry was so distracted by the feel of it slipping over his head and against his skin that it took him a moment to realise that Draco was delaying, that he’d seen the line of blood down his stomach.  
  
  
  
Harry swallowed hard as he watched him, feeling a warm thumb ghost over it and he hissed at the feeling. It stung and bled like it was a thick gash as opposed to a small cut. Minor wounds always did bleed more…  
  
  
  
“You can heal that for me, can’t you?” He proposed. He could do it himself if he tried, but it seemed like Draco really needed to feel useful – _helpful_ right now. _His father did this,_ Harry thought. _Does he hate his father? Does he love him? Both?_ That was the hardest lesson of not growing up with his parents, he could never understand the complexity of some people’s relationships with theirs. If Lily and James Potter had lived long enough, would he have ever been faced with something as horrendous as this? Something that could make him loathe his own parents? _Could Draco hate his?_  
  
  
  
“Maybe we should get rid of the um...” His cheeks flushed a little, “the belly-button ring before I get much bigger?” he suggested, having meant to ask him for a while now, wondering if Draco would be alright with it. Draco’s gaze still hadn’t moved from the scratch on his abdomen.  
  
  
  
Draco forced a smile, finally when his eyes broke from that scratch. He didn't even need to ask, he _knew_ what his father was like. “I suppose we should take it out,” He said calmly, flicking the end so it unhooked from his navel. The hole where he had peirced it look red. They – no _he_ should have taken better care of those really, Harry could have got infections. Draco scolded himself, for how careless he had been. He examined Harry carefully, eyes stinging at the sight of the person he…  
  
  
  
He couldn't say that he loved him, but he – _those eyes…_  
  
  
  
Draco leant in then, roughly seizing Harry’s cheeks with all the passion in the world and planted a wet kiss on his tender lips. His eyes flickered with the remainders of his earlier tears. He needed this right now. He couldn't explain why. “Here,” He said, pulling back and tugging Harry’s nightshirt down all the way. “We can call someone out.”  
  
  
  
Harry, again, just nodded, dazed by the intensity of that kiss, of the demanding, devoted passion. It chased away the throbbing pain (for however brief a time) and his tongue darted out, unconsciously gathering the taste of the kiss from his lips. “What are we going to tell them?” He asked as he settled back on the couch, looking down underneath the neckline of his silk shirt to examine his navel some more, it looked and felt odd without it – he’d had it since…  
  
  
  
 _Since our wedding night,_ he recalled, abruptly raising his gaze back up to Draco, who was folding a piece of parchment neatly into a paper bird, (not unlike the one he had launched at him in third year Defence Against the Dark Arts) before waving his wand over it. The fluttering, paper message hovered for a few moments, before disappearing. Immediate messages without owls, Harry supposed. He had seen something similar in the Ministry of Magic – interdepartmental memos, Arthur Weasley had called them. This was something akin to the muggle telegram, he guessed.  
  
  
  
Draco hovered by the bureau on which he’d scrawled out the message and Harry shifted anxiously on the couch, pain still throbbing in his core. Lucius must have really torn him up in there…  
  
  
  
“We'll tell them that you and I got in an argument. Sexual relationships _can be_ rough if proper care isn’t taken. I’ll say I lost my temper with you and things got out of hand,” Draco said plainly. Harry’s eyes widenened. That was the first time he'd seen him say or do something noble and it wasn't even the time for it! He suddenly felt frustrated because Draco was taking the blame for someone who didn't deserve it. And what for?  
  
  
  
 _He was protecting that bloody man,_ Harry realised. _Of course, he does love him after all. Or maybe he thinks his father might do something else if he tells anyone about this?_  
  
  
  
“I…I’ll agree to it, if that’s what you want, but it doesn’t seem fair. Y-You...you’ve been the most careful one, the most...” he frowned when his words refused to come out correctly. “You’ve been the best parent so far, it doesn’t seem right,” Harry said simply at last, shifting along the couch in invitation, all-but gesturing to the empty space on the furniture beside him for Draco to join him. He didn’t want distance right now, as ironic as that sounded.  
  
  
  
That closeness from that morning, he wanted that back – needed it now desperately. He certainly hoped he could blame hormones or being molested by his _father-in-law_ for this neediness, he wasn’t sure he liked the chances that it was just him, wanting...  
  
  
  
“It doesn't matter. Besides, what choice do I have? At least if I do take the blame I can explain in detail what happened. I don't really care if they look at me with disgust as long as you're okay and the baby is too. I’ve dealt with the disgust of people before, you know. I _was_ a death eater.” Draco looked thoughtful for a moment, worrying his lush lips with his teeth. “And as for this…this situation with _him_ , we can strengthen the wards against even him. I’ll make it safe for you, at least until you… _leave_.” Draco said, trying to reassure Harry. Though his husband’s expression was suddenly overcome with sadness and he couldn't understand why.  
  
  
  
Harry flinched at the mention of his inevitable departure, as if it had been a slap in the face. “But I…he doesn't want the baby either. He might try to…try to hurt it,” Harry reasoned, “After what just – I wouldn't put it passed him. And I think… Listen, we will put wards on our rooms for now so he can't enter and we can worry about what to do with him later?” He felt a little stupid for the way his hand instinctually moved to his stomach, but a sudden light in Draco’s eyes made him look pleased with the action.  
  
  
  
“This is more important I – I won't let my guard down, won't let him get to me so easily,” Harry promised, offering his palm up to the air and summoning his wand. "Episkey!" He chanted, magicking his minor wounds, the scratch on his stomach and those around his wrists away. If they were going with Draco’s cover story, those afflictions would look suspicious.  
  
  
  
A loud knock echoed through the room then. Harry jumped, his heart hammering in his check, but Draco merely smiled in soft amusement.  
  
”It's the floo, Harry,” he explained, “Enter.”  
  
  
  
With that the flames roared to life in the hearth and the round, furious face of Healer O’Dempsy came into view as she marched towards Harry. “What recklessness is this?” She growled, pushing Harry back down by his shoulders when he tried to rise. “Mr Malfoy, you informed me of your husband’s afflictions in your note. Are they serious?” Even as she asked, she drew her wand waving it first over Harry and then his stomach. “Shirt off, Mr Harry Malfoy,” she insisted. Harry reluctantly obeyed.  
  
Harry wasn't sure why that warm light glowing through his skin was soothing to see, but he knew that he didn't like this scowl over their healer's face.  
  
  
  
“It was a silly argument, Draco didn't mean to,” Harry stated, cringing at blaming Draco for this. “I…I'm bleeding a bit from there is all, we were worried that–”  
  
”You knew already the dangers, the difficulties that may occur and yet you risked it anyway? When I explained that sexual intercourse was fine I didn't mean this!”  
  
Harry winced, but then the light in his stomach faded and he frowned, bringing his hands to his flesh. “It’s ok though. Isn't it?” Harry asked softly, “It's not…”  
  
”It is alive. The punctures and wounds to cause such blood were inflicted on you alone, it seems. But I warn you, whatever you – 'used' if it had gone but an inch more your child may be physically harmed, if not dead. I recommend you not use such 'props' again.”  
  
  
  
She pushed Harry gently back then so that he lay flat on his back. Harry felt panic rise in his throat at the action but she fussed when he tried to get up. “I need to see the damage, Mr Malfoy, lift your nightshirt up.” Harry looked to Draco, who hovered behind her, but there was no disagreement there. He had to do it.  
  
  
  
Mortification suffused his cheeks with colour as he pulled his shirt up, irritating the wounds in his netherregions as he shifted so that he drew a low hiss in through his teeth. He kept his eyes on the ceiling, his every limb tense. He hated this, being prodded at, looked at so intimately like a rare specimen. His eyes slammed shut, unable to bear it. He'd barely got accustomed to Draco looking…  
  
  
  
“Well?” He prompted tersely, loathing his situation.  
  
”Signifiant tearing,” she explained, flicking her wand over him once more. The ring of muscles felt hot, then cold and then the pain was gone, only the inner sting remaining. “I'll leave you a potion for the internal damage, two doses tonight and one this morning should be enough to heal it. The damage to yourself was no as great as the risk to the child–”  
  
”No that's fine,” Harry cut her off. “As long as it's alright. It won't… Do I have to do anything?”  
  
  
  
For the first time since Draco and he had been introduced to this woman as a healer, she gave him an approving smile. “Take it easy on your feet – if you get tired lay down, drink and eat more, you're still far too skinny. And if you engage in sexual intercourse do not allow yourself to get carried away.”  
  
  
  
“We can still have sex?" Harry asked in what he realised was relieved surprise. Over the healer's shoulder, he saw Draco give him a shocked look. Harry flushed.  
  
  
  
“Yes, you can still have sex, but not the kind of which I saw today! I know the modern sex life has a reputation of being _rough-and-go_ , but you have a child to think about now!” She said fimly. Draco’s eyes were still wide in shock of the entire ordeal, and Harry’s sudden outburst.  
  
  
  
“Now,” O’Dempsy said spinning on her feet to Draco. “What were you thinking? You should know better, you want this child don't you?”  
  
Draco lowered his head in only _partly_ pretend shame. “Yes.”  
  
She nodded. “Well, You will do best to remember when you're engageing in sexual activity, to please, take it easy.”  
  
  
  
“Yes, I'm sorry,” Draco said clearly. He felt like he was being lectured by his mother.  
  
  
  
“You can pull your shirt back down now, Mr Malfoy.”  
  
  
  
“Thanks,” Harry said to her, cutting off her scolding of Draco. “And thank you for coming today, I think I'll have Draco help me to bed.” He faked a yawn. It was only just midday but he could blame his tiredness on his condition – anything so that she would leave for now, and let Draco alone. “We'll see you at our next appointment?”  
  
  
  
The woman nodded to them both, before turning and seizing handful of floo powder, the flames whisking her out of sight.  
  
  
  
Harry sighed heavily, wishing Draco would sit beside him instead of hovering just out of arm's reach. “Thank goodness it's alright,” he murmured, meaning the baby, sincere relief in his voice. At the beginning it had felt silly to aknowledge it, to call it his. It hadn't felt right but somehow, that morning, it had changed slightly. “And since when has our rooms had access to the floo? We always go downstairs.”  
  
”I had Mother connect it this morning,” Draco explained, still not moving any closer to him, as if in awe of his earlier outburst still. “That was one of the things I needed done. It seemed silly to have to walk all the way downstairs to use the floo in your condition…”  
  
  
  
When Draco’s words trailed off, Harry nodded in understanding. “And…I suppose I can get to you easier if I need to,” Harry murmured under his breath. Upon realising how that had sounded, however, he quickly added, “And Ron and Hermione of course.”  
  
  
  
“Of course,” Draco said calmly, offering him an unsteady smile.  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
Shadows clung to the door to Harry and Draco’s rooms despite the sun still glowing outside. The lingering forms swept over the door, their wands conjuring a brilliant orange light that swallowed the only entrance to their chambers, before fading.  
  
  
  
“No one may enter now besides them, us and the house elf?” Narcissa prompted, needing reassurance. Severus Snape gave a small nod. It was the most powerful combination of anti-entry charms they new – some even dark. He stowed his wand away, considering Narcissa's expression carefully. _If only she knew the extent of her husband's malice,_ he thought, though not voicing a word as he produced a vial from his robes, handing her the glass, shining with it's liquid fuchsia contents.  
  
  
  
“For Harry, a little in his food with every meal will protect him from most poisons and magical sabotage. We will simply have to guard against physical attack,” he paused a moment as Narcissa gripped the vial, to her credit as stone-faced as ever. She had survived the war as a death eater’s mother and wife, she was prepared for an attack against her own.  
  
  
  
Snape's dark eyes flickered to the door and he wondered, just how bad this would get before it ended. Harry and Draco still weren't truly aware of how they had managed to concieve such a magical miracle after all…  
  
  
  
 _For the better that they are naïve of some things, no doubt,_ he thought. “I suggest only their own elf prepares their food and drink. I will try and find more potions to make Potter – Harry comfortable.”  
  
  
  
And with that, he turned, heading down the length of the corridor. There, Harry was guarded, for now. His intelligence had breathed word that Lucius had purchased a wicked uncommon poison – for Harry, since it had been a few strands of dark hair that had been used, his sources had told him. Lucius did not only want to end him, he wanted something so much more malicious, sinister…  
  
  
  
 _None of them must know,_ Snape thought, _for now. Innocence will be their protection until the time is right for change._ Without a glance back at the house as he exited, Snape melted into the shadows of the gloomy early November morning.  
  
  
  
 _  
  
~To Be Continued..._


	13. Heat

[Thirteen]  
  
 **Heat**  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The Burrow was full of warmth despite the early November chill. The heat could have been blamed by the roaring fire in the hearth, or even the numerous bodies squeazed around the infamous Weasley kitchen table, but whatever it was, it never ceased to amuse Harry, who watched the steam from Mrs Weasley's cooking float out of the open top half of the back door.  
  
  
  
Mrs Weasley and her three youngest sons, together with Ginny and Hermione (and Hugo) contributed to the heartwarming racket. Harry had missed it. He didn't get this at Malfoy Manor – that was always so cold, so quiet. Even his moments with Draco were quiet.  
  
  
  
Since the incident with Lucius a few days prior, he had taken to venturing out to the Burrow when Draco was at work. He had spent time with Narcissa once but it was awkward and he was still uncertain of how to behave around her. He flushed a little then, upon realising that Draco was the only one he was close enough to to relax with. He could relax with Draco?! _And it won't be quiet much longer in any case,_ he realised, his amusement tinged with that familiar sadness, patting his stomach sadly.   
  
  
  
Unluckily for him, the hawk that was Mrs Weasley had spotted the instinctual motion.  
  
  
  
“Body temperature fluctuating, dear?” She asked, bustling over to him, the soup ladle still in one hand as she smoothed his fringe back to take his temperature with a firm, motherly hand. “Your morning sickness really should have gone by now. You shall take some of my ginger tea with you when you go.”  
  
  
  
Harry just nodded. How could he argue that the reason for his flush was oddly placed embarrassment upon realising he was starting to depend on, to even like his…husband…  
  
  
  
It seemed insane that it was possible. But he had always been faultlessly forgiving – the chosen one who forgave his rotten relatives who had neglected him all his life, the boy who even offered _Voldemort_ a final chance. Just because he hadn’t fully forgiven Draco yet, just because he was still in the process of coming to trust him, that didn’t mean he couldn’t like him. _At some point in this madness he became my saviour, fellow sufferer, how could I not feel anything at all?_ Harry wondered, his hand still on his stomach.  
  
  
  
 _Maybe it’s just the pregnancy hormones confusing me,_ he thought. But he was certain there was a carmarderie between them, a bond forged in the loss of their childhood and the things they had suffered that few others could comprehend. Suddenly he realised, however, that around the table, all attention had turned to him.  
  
  
  
“Oh, is it moving yet, Harry?” Hermione asked, her eyes glowing with fascination. Harry shook his head, not sure why he felt…concern at the baby's lack of movement. He was assured he would any day now by that confounded book…  
  
  
  
“No movement yet,” he told her and both the Mrs Weasleys offered him sympathetic stares.   
  
“Everyone is different – soon, I am sure,” Mrs Weasley said squeezing his shoulder gently. Harry just nodded again. He felt a bit silly for being the focus of such a…a girly conversation. Across the table, George, who had been bouncing Hugo on his shoulder must have noticed his discomfort for he chose that moment to speak up.  
  
  
  
“Men weren't meant to be baby factories,” he laughed, “Harry, your significant other should let you come visit the shop. To help out more, give you something to do – can't have Mrs Malfoy stuck indoors all day, now can we?”  
  
  
  
Harry gave a half-hearted scowl and smirked despite himself. “I'll run it by Draco later,” he promised, wondering if perhaps George missed his company at the shop that had always been run by two…  
  
  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Ron grimace and divert his gaze to the back door. And with that Harry’s attention shifted from George's motives. The Weasleys had accepted it quite (surprisingly) easy, especially Mr and Mrs Weasley, who of course, knew how he and Draco were feeling in some aspects. But Ginny and Ron had been silent during every Draco and baby related conversation. He was sure they were keeping so silent because of their disagreement.   
  
  
  
_Can't say nothing nice don't say nothing at all,_ he recited in his head.  
  
  
  
“What?” Harry said, demanding his best friend's attention. Ron's eyes snapped back to him, Ginny's did also, but everyone else shifted uncomfortably in their seats. _They'd heard Ron and Ginny ranting about me before, no doubt,_ Harry thought bitterly. Ron and Ginny had been talking about him behind his back?  
  
“You call him 'Draco' now?” Ron winced.  
  
“I could hardly keep calling him 'Malfoy' could I? I am one–”   
  
“Just because you're married to him doesn't mean you are one of them!” Ginny interjected, her tone as hard as he brother's, spitting the word 'them'.   
  
“Right. I thought you didn't want Malfoy or his kid,” Ron continued, “I thought you were miserable with him!”  
  
  
  
Harry frowned, immediately on the defensive. “It seems you'd prefer it if I _were_ , because then at least I wasn't disagreeing with your hatred of Draco. At least _then_ I’d be focused completely on you and Hermione. You'd prefer it if I have no life of my own? The way I haven’t ever since the war?”  
  
  
  
“What you have now is hardly a _life_ , Harry,” Ginny stated and before Harry could even open his mouth to reply, Ron had jumped in.  
  
“It just makes me wonder what he bought your affections with, mate,” Ron grumbled. “Money? The gifts? Or is his dick that bloody amazing?”  
  
  
  
Harry flew to his feet. “I'm not a whore!” Harry snarled, the empty fruit bowl in the centre of the table shattering with his fury. “He gives me nothing! I live in that house but it isn't mine. He doesn't buy me gifts. Don't you dare suggest I can be bought!”  
  
“Of course, Harry, dear,” Mrs Weasley said softly, gesturing for him to return to his seat and sending a glare to her two youngest. But Ron wasn't finished evidently.  
  
  
  
“Well then, _what_?!” Ron spat, now leaping to his feet across from him. “You expect me to believe you’re happy with a snake like him? With a man who _rapes_ you and _tortures_ you? Seriously doubt he has changed enough for you to forgive him that easily!”  
  
  
  
“You’re too lenient with people, with everyone,” Ginny added firmly, though with an edge of pity in her voice, as if she thought him mad. She cringed at the thought of them having sexual intercourse, of Harry being forced into it. It was unbearable and she too stood.   
  
  
  
“Ginny, dear, _please_ ,” Mrs Weasly tried to usher them back to the table once more.   
  
  
  
“Ron's right though!” She argued. “After all of the things Harry has done for us before, he still had to sign away his life, so we could have ours! It's just… I’d have rather he didn't agree to this in the first place. We could have coped, _we would have_. I'd rather have nothing than see him have to go through this!” She cried, her eyes swelling with frustrated tears.  
  
  
  
“Well it's too late for that,” Harry groaned, feeling ganged up on. But the Weasleys then, for the first time, looked at him and Harry could see nothing but ungratefulness for everything he had sacrificed. All of them torn by his decision, Mrs Weasley playing mediator, and Ginny was reduced to tears…  
  
  
  
“I feel partly responsible for this, for how it didn’t work out – _between us_ ,” Ginny murmured softly, making a humiliated flush colour Harry’s cheeks. “But at the same time, I can't understand why you're letting it go this far Harry. You don’t _have_ to forgive him! He – he _hurt_ you!”  
  
  
  
“I’ve done spiteful things too, maybe I didn’t rape him but…” He shook his head, shuddering at the memory of nearly killing his child. “But I wanted forgiveness too. Everyone deserves a–”  
  
“Fine, so forgive him!” Ron snarled. “Does it mean you have to roll over and present your arse for him? Even if you’re barmy enough to forgive him, it doesn’t mean you can carry on like everything is alright!”  
  
  
  
“Ronald Weasley!” Mrs Weasley declared, livid at his inappropriate words, but Harry cut across the scolding swiftly.  
  
  
  
“Everything isn’t alright, but it never has been, not for me,” He admitted, his voice devoid of emotion. “But just life is unfair to me doesn't mean I have a free pass to lie around and do nothing but complain until I turn into a bitter old man,” Harry snapped, not returning to his seat as Mrs Weasley seemed to wish. “This is my lot in life–” He left out the part about his bargain for freedom with Draco. “And you're right, I did this for you, _all_ of you. I think you owe it to me to let me try and be happy with what I’m stuck with. At the start Draco was… But he's different now, things aren't as bad as he could make them for me. And he wants this baby – he wants to make me comfortable. He let's me come and see you, doesn't he? He doesn't have to, you know.”  
  
  
  
“He ' _lets'_ you?” Ginny repeated in disdain. “Harry, he doesn't run your life! Like when you said before, that you'll _ask him_ if you can visit the shop? You are a free man–”   
  
“Not of responsibilities. He’s my husband, it’s common curtesy before I make plans without him!” Harry bit out through clenched teeth. There was also the matter of Lucius Malfoy and how he was worried the man might catch him vulnerable again, but he couldn’t tell them _that_ …  
  
  
  
“I have to take things easy. I have responsibilities now, for this baby, Draco made me see that.” Something about the vague fondness and gratitude in his voice made Ron feign vomiting.  
  
“I can't believe my best friend has a Malfoy squirming inside him…”  
  
“Ron!!!” Hermione shrieked and Mrs Weasley gestured for George and a silent Percy to take Hugo from the room. Once they had disappeared through the doorway, Harry rounded on the youngest Weasleys.  
  
  
  
“That thing _squirming_ inside of me, it’s a part of me too,” He snarled defensively, “And I don't give two shits if you like it or not but as my friend of over ten years I expect you to understand. If Hermione can manage it, why can't you and Ginny?” When Ron didn't answer Harry’s scowl intensified. “Draco may have done some rotten things but he takes me as I am, at least–”  
  
“Well, yeah, rapists aren’t too choosy,” Ron sneered and Harry watched him with dark, shining eyes, simply continuing as if he hadn’t heard those words. As if they hadn’t hurt as much as they did.  
  
  
  
“–He accepts me, whether I’m selfish or stupid or _whatever_ , he takes me as I come and he doesn't even love me as you are all supposed to. And he may be wrong on many accounts but he's right in that this baby is innocent and doesn't deserve to be killed or penalised for who one or both of it's parents are.”  
  
  
  
Ron’s hands clenched into fists at his side, his tall frame physically _shaking_ with rage. “Would you wish this for your child then? Would you really want to be born into a world where the relationship between your parents was fake? Was built on torture and pain and _force_?!” Ron spat and Harry’s eyes narrowed. But Ron still wasn’t done. “You've never had your bloody parents around so maybe you think this is _paradise_ compared to the Dursleys, but it’s _fucked up_ , mate. Would you want to be born into a fake life where your father held your mother down and _raped_ her?!”  
  
  
  
At that moment, Ron felt a hand swipe across his face, but it wasn't Harry whose palm stung from the blow. “Thats quite enough!” Mrs Weasley shouted, seizing her son by the collar and pulling him aside. “You will not speak to Harry that way, no matter what you think of his choices!”  
  
  
  
“It’s not bloody fake!” Harry snarled back at Ron despite Mrs Weasley’s intervention and the table groaned menacingly under the weight of his magical temper. “I’m not – not pretending I _love_ him or anything! I’m not pretending anything, this is how I feel, this is what I want and if you were any sort of friend you would accept it and shut your gob!”  
  
  
  
He stood there for a moment longer, rigid with fury, his teeth clenched together and his limbs shaking, until he whirled on his heel, seizing his travelling cloak from the peg beside the fireplace. “Thank you for having me, Mrs Weasley – I’ll talk to you later, Hermione.” And with that, he seized the floo powder and hurled it into the fire.  
  
  
  
The flames swallowed him and he closed his eyes against the sickening dizziness. He felt his stomach lurch and reached out to catch himself as his body jerked forwards out of the next grate. He gasped for air, ash filling his lungs as he stumbled out of the grate, straight into Draco’s study at the manor. The blond bolted up behind his desk, his eyes wide.  
  
  
  
“Are you alright? What’s the matter? Is the–”  
  
“Me and the baby are fine,” Harry assured him grumpily, brushing soot off of himself. Throwing his travelling cloak to the side carelessly, he stormed over to the desk and slammed his palms down on the polished desk surface. The neat pile of parchment trembled, but did not fall. He watched Draco search himself for the right way to phrase his next question, so Harry put him out of his misery…  
  
  
  
“I…Ron, and Ginny they…” Harry shook his head as it tensed, the blood in his veins boiling. “The things they said, about you and me and the…the…!”  
  
  
  
“What things?” Draco asked curiously and Harry tipped his head, rather embarrassed to discuss his best friends’ opinions. “What did they say?” Draco repeated when Harry didn't answer. “About the baby, am I correct?” Still Harry remained quiet and Draco leant back in his chair, taking off his reading glasses and placing them on the desk. “What does it even matter what they think?”  
  
  
  
“It doesn’t,” Harry replied, (far too quietly) moving around the desk to lean against the clear edge of it in front of Draco – there being no other option for a chair. “I told them it didn’t matter what they thought, it’s the fact that they said those things in the first place,” He explained, shifting back onto the desk’s surface, trying not to knock the parchments at all.  
  
  
  
Draco gave the stacks a short glance, as if debating whether or not to move them, but instead he focused his gaze on Harry, those grey eyes staring up at him so intently that Harry had to look away. It was awkward, almost embarrassing to have someone look at him to…attentively.   
  
  
  
“Ron is always irritated when I do something without him, anyway, or when he thinks something else might steal his attention away. And Ginny…well I think she is a little biased,” He let that hang there, Draco knew he had been seeing Ginny whilst they were at Hogwarts, it was hardly a secret, or on-going. “I don’t know – but the things they… I didn’t like the way they insinuated that this,” He gestured between them, but then lost his words, closing his eyes tightly and hissing at his inability to speak with fury still racing through his veins like adrenaline-infused blood.  
  
  
  
“That this isn’t real, that you – you’ve _bought_ me. I don’t like being called a whore, however inadvertently. And I hate the way they seemed as if they’d rather you were mistreating me and making me miserable – they’d rather I was miserable!”  
  
“And you’re not miserable, with me?” Draco’s voice was as smooth and cool as ice despite the surprised yearning in his gaze. Harry swallowed, opening his eyes to look upon him.  
  
“I…I suppose not,” He murmured sheepishly. He meant what he’d said earlier. Just because he had forgiven Draco didn’t make it all alright. But that didn’t mean he could sit around and mourn for the things he couldn’t have either. Draco shifted closer to him, so that he was looking directly up at him and Harry could not escape his gaze.  
  
  
  
“He called you a slut?” Draco asked curiously, seeming somewhat amused. Harry flushed and swatted the pen from his fingers in irritation.   
  
  
  
Draco’s hand tilted up Harry’s chin slowly. “Well, I'm glad to hear that you're not completely unhappy,” He said, eyes remaining cool before glancing back over at his papers. “But I'm extremely snowed under here. I have a lot to catch up on, so if that’s all, would you mind getting down from my desk?”  
  
  
  
But as Draco went to reach for his glasses he found his wrist being snatched by Harry's hand. He glanced back up to Harry, wondering which direction the _wonderful_ pregnancy hormones would direct Harry’s mood this time. “What?” He demanded, a little wary. At times the outbursts, the neediness could serve to bring them together, but at others Harry could take things completely the wrong way…  
  
  
  
Harry’s green eyes flared darkly and the hand not gripping Draco’s wrist smoothed up into blond locks, caressing them behind his ear before gripping them tightly at the base of his neck. He jerked Draco’s neck back and yanked him hard up into his mouth. A small groan of release left his lips at that touch and his tongue swept out to pour his anger, his hurt into that body, if Draco would let him.  
  
  
  
“I need you – _so-bloody-angry-_ I – fuck me,” He breathed, opening his legs invitingly and releasing Draco’s wrist (his grip on his hair not relenting) he reached down to jerk open the zip on Draco’s trousers, without ever once leaving his mouth unattended. His lashes fluttered, feeling Draco still stunned beneath him and biting his lip provocatively. “However you want,” He whined, desperation ringing in his words, “I – so need – my body is so hot…!”  
  
  
  
Blood rushed to all his sensitive places, every sensation heightened thanks to his condition and fury and he gripped Draco tighter, the lower hand groping inside his trousers, stroking the green silk of his boxers into his burgeoning arousal. What was he doing? What was he _saying_? He felt wound so tight he would snap like a strained elastic band and he tasted the depths of Draco’s frozen mouth again, gasping against him needily.   
  
  
  
 Draco’s heart caught in his throat, Harry was…was _asking him_ for sex? He grinned deeply and pulled his lover in closer. His hands tightened around his collar and his lips brushed over Harry’s when he whispered, “You want me to sate your dirty hormonal desires?” Harry nodded vigorusly and Draco pulled him roughly off the table. Harry fell foward into his lap, the papers spilling across the desk as Draco rushed Harry’s shirt off quickly and threw it aside. In the height of need, their mouths locked together wetly while Draco reached down and yanked his trousers open (still sitting down) and pulled his burgeoning arousal from within. Harry too was hurrying his trousers down.   
  
  
  
“Sit on me?” Draco groaned huskily in the heat of passion.  
  
  
  
Trousers off now, Harry slid onto the cradle of Draco’s hips, grinding his cock into Draco’s naked erection, Harry’s briefs the only thing separating them. His foreskin was tugged back against the fabric, delicious friction striking his body with pleasure like the spark of a matchstick. “Y-Yes, Draco, fuck me – I need it,” He growled out, fisting both hands in Draco’s hair this time, crashing his lips against the corner of his jaw and grazing the sharp line with his lips. “Come on, Mr Malfoy,” he panted huskily, rubbing himself into him, desperate for more friction. His mouth travelled down to the pulse racing near the base of Draco’s ear and he sucked fervently, his tongue swiping out to seduce him into movement. “Give your husband what he needs…?”  
  
  
  
When had his voice become this…this provocative, this coquettish?  
  
  
  
“You want my cock, hm?” Draco panted, far from protesting as Harry suckled at his earlobe. Electrifying tingles exploded over his skin, sending ripples of buzzing static through his flesh wherever that mouth touched him. “Merlin, you're so hot!” Draco gasped, yelping at every tender touch until eventually, he could take no more.   
  
  
  
Tossing Harry onto the desk, he crawled over him, quickly rushing Harry’s remaining garment from his body. Those wanton thighs parted easily for him and he rewarded Harry’s greedy body by grinding into the twitching valley of those cheeks. Harry shuddered at the feel of flesh against flesh, at the hot pressure against his backside. His cheeks seemed to clench together as if wanting to devour that teasing cock whole and he arched hastily back into him, that swollen head ghosting over the opening – a taster of what was soon to come.  
  
  
  
“You want me in this hole, deep and tender, hmm? Tell me, _beg me_.” Draco said desperately, his fingers slipping between them to spread his arse wide. And Harry had to wonder briefly, if Draco’s desires for him to beg, to plead for him were the result of a dark, _deeply_ buried insecurity.  
  
  
  
But then, all thought was momentarily halted as far as his prick was concerned…   
  
  
  
Harry squirmed on the desk, those hot words making his cock hard and aching with the lack of touch. He shouldn’t be getting off on this, not on that voice alone. _Dirty little git,_ he scolded himself, without any real feeling. Hormones and his manic sex-drive had pushed away any reservations in the name of ‘should and shouldn’t’. “Yes!” He hissed, turning his cheek to the cool surface of the desktop. “Stretch me – fuck my bum on your desk, stretch me open until I’m _gaping_!” He reached down, stroking Draco’s cock and twisting it so the swollen tip teased his quivering entrance.  
  
  
  
A low sound of frustrated need tumbled from his lips and he leant up, hooking Draco’s neck with his elbow and yanking him down to mesh their lips together wetly. This time the kiss was frantic, Harry grinding his cock up into Draco’s stomach with famished gyrations as he slid his tongue along the length of Draco’s in challenge.  
  
  
  
“Bloody hell!” Draco grunted, his entire body tensing with anticipation, he reached for his cock, pre-cum drizzling from the end and wettened Harry’s entrance with it. “I'll be careful,” He promised in a low, husky tone that made Harry’s skin pimple all over. His hips glided against Harry’s, so much feeling, so much need. He felt like his cock was ready to blow already. Reaching clumsily for his wand, he aimed it at Harry’s wanting body and cast the spell for ease, before tossing the stick aside and pinning Harry sexily into the wood. Grey eyes glistened with some meaning Harry could not comprehend, when one hand slid down over Harry’s and he whispered, “Slip my cock in, hmm?”  
  
  
  
Harry gasped, allowing his own hand to be lead down, where he squeezed the tip. Draco yelped, but moved closer, flinching at the sudden tightness that Harry was moving him into – almost burning with heat. “So…so tight!”  
  
  
  
Harry blushed darkly at the filthy complement, clenching involuntarily as he eased Draco into his hole. It burned, but deliciously so and he pushed back to meet Draco, swallowing him eagerly and moaning low in his throat. “Hmm, take me, deeper,” Harry breathed, pulling Draco as deep into his body as he could. He swore he could feel his pulse in his _throat_ and he lay perfectly still as his body adjusted, his sweaty chest heaving with breathlessness.   
  
  
  
“I…why do you have to make me so…” But Harry lost his words in a low, indistinguishable sound as Draco rocked his hips against him gently, stalling all sense and sending his sensations into a fine frenzy.  
  
  
  
“H-Hot? Draco answered, Though admittedly that wasn’t quite the word Harry would have used. “You drive me insane too, _Potter_ ,” Draco said dazedly. What was he saying? “Oh Merlin!” Draco screeched, thrusting in shallowly and drawing back out almost to the tip. He felt those muscles clench around his helmet and hissed at the tantalising pleasure, before sliding back in deep, his cock sliding in like a knife through butter. “You’re clenching around me, like your spoilt, demanding little arse is eating my cock,” Draco teased, half panting.   
  
  
  
His hand swept up Harry’s neck and into his hair, gliding roughly through the strands as he pulled his head up and crashed their lips together. He could feel Harry’s tongue melting into his own, shared saliva spilling from the sides and splashing over Harry’s chin below. Wetly the pulled away, eyes glazed over as if lost, unable to tear away from the fierce and burning fire that was burning between them, the reflection of it in Harry’s eyes.  
  
  
  
“Hmmnhh!” Harry whined, arching his neck to feel that hand on the back of it more. “…so possessed,” he finally finished, “so bloody lost and _enjoying_ it!” He twitched around Draco’s throbbing heat, clinging to him tightly with every movement. “Yess… pamper my arse, Malfoy…” He exposed his throat and neck for more touch, pressing his leaking prick up into Draco’s sculpted belly. “T-That’s incredible – don’t stop!”   
  
  
  
Drawn in almost magnetically, Draco’s lips danced along Harry’s neckline and down to his collarbone, caressing it with kisses and leaving him with tiny loving bruises. He felt Harry’s head arch further into him and his legs wrap around his back, those heels digging into his arse, pulling him in for more. He couldn’t get enough, the tight sheath of his arse was sweltering, wanting the end of Draco’s cock to swell inside his tight space and fill him to the brim.  
  
  
  
“So hard, so hot…! Harry, _Merlin_ , take my cock!” Draco’s head dropped, tossing side-to-side in the maddening build of passion and he moved deeper then, his cock pulsating inside that sacred space. “Take my fat cock you prissy pouf,” He growled.  
  
  
  
“I can take it – more, oh God, _please_!” Harry gasped, hooking his knees up with his arms as close to his shoulders as he could get without straining his body. His cheeks were open this way, his hole taut and spitting out wet slapping noises that only made his cock jerk in a plea for attention. Draco pushed his cock deep, holding it there until Harry wriggled on it.  
  
  
  
“No! You wanker, don’t tease me! _Fuck me_!” He heard Draco chuckle wickedly from above and he spread himself as wide as he could go, an invitation Draco couldn’t refuse. Harry groaned as Draco set a hand on his thighs, steadying him as he hammered his loosening chute with a savagery that made Harry’s cock swell until it hurt. “Oh – I – I can’t – _Shit_!” Harry cursed, his eyes watering as he finally reached down, circling the thick head of his prick with the pad of his thumb while fisting his length.   
  
  
  
“Hmm, pull on it Harry. Tug your cock for me…nmmmgg!!” He groaned. His platinum hair falling over his face like a curtain as he moved deeper inside. He could feel his cock melting, burning in the frantic build of ecstasy. This was all happening so fast, so much, like now he had tasted Harry’s pleasure, his willingness, his _trust_ , parts of him no one had ever seen before, he wanted it all and always…  
  
  
  
He watched hotly as Harry began to squeeze his prick in his tight fist, the foreskin that sat over the end usually pulled down taut to expose the glistening, purple tip. Pre-emission glided down over the flushed shaft, the clear globule painting a mouth-watering trail over the arousal _Draco_ had incited. “Bloody hell, your cock looks fucking delicious…” Draco groaned, his hips grinding harder inside.  
  
  
  
Harry’s breathing sped up a pace at more of those debauched complements and he jerked his thick shaft harder, tugging his foreskin down over the helm of his pulsing glans until his cock was slick with pre-emission. He groaned loudly this time, fisting himself urgently with Draco drilling hit hospot until his vision was blurry with pleasured tears.  
  
  
  
“Y-You – you look so…so hot above me – what’re you _doing_ to me I… _can’t_ …”  
  
  
  
Draco’s hips raced forward as quick as they could, the tight ring welcoming him greedily every time and grasping at him whenever he drew back for a deeper thrust. “And you're so gorgeous below me!” Draco retorted, his hands tightening over Harry. “Touch your cock, that’s right, rub it for me!” He moaned, biting his tongue between his teeth in an effort to hold off until Harry had found his pleasure first. “So good. _So good_!”   
  
  
  
Draco’s cock felt as hard and heavy as an iron pole now, meaty and full of passion waiting to burst. He’d cum soon, he could _feel_ it. A willing, blissful Harry was too perfect for his longing thoughts. He could feel the center of his cock aching for release. “Close!”  
  
  
  
“Hmmmnnh! Deeper – _harder_ , please! Draco, I’m – I’m going to burst!” He rocked harder into Draco’s thrusts, the blond’s balls slapping against his arse and that thick cock pounding him. He wrapped his free arm tighter around Draco’s neck, pulling in his _husband_ so close that their skin stuck together with sweat. He panted and groaned shamelessly in his ear, feeling Draco squirm against him and fuck him harder in response and he rubbed every inch of his body up against Draco needily. “M-More! More! Need – nice – big… Oh _God_ , you’re taking me… _over…completely_ …!”   
  
  
  
“You want my cum on inside you? Want me to squirt it over your belly, hmm? Do you?” Harry nodded in response and Draco’s breathless smile widened, his thick cock ramming closer and harder inside, arms braced on the table to keep his full weight well off of Harry’s belly. Everything was so intimate and tense and he was _all too close!_  
  
  
  
“Ahh, fuck. I'm…ahh!” Draco moaned, the feelings flying through him making him shudder with the force, his mind spiralling into an intimate haze he hadn’t thought possible for a long time. He was _melting_ in Harry’s slick body, everything wet and hot and sticky. “Ride me…ride me.” Draco instructed, bringing Harry up from the desk and falling back into his office chair so Harry was now sitting on him. “Fuck me.”  
  
  
  
Harry cried out in frustrated passion, holding Draco’s shoulders as leverage and thrusting himself down over Draco’s hardness, circling his hips with every frantic, grinding jerk. “T-Too much!” He hissed tipping his head back in wanton abandon and feeling Draco’s mouth seize his throat, sucking at it greedily as if the sweat lacing his skin were the sweetest, most addictive delicacy. “M-My cock is too hot!” Harry gasped when Draco’s hand reached down to fist him generously.  
  
  
  
Harry’s body twisted and he arched into him with a loud scream, dizzy with the chaos arousal was enacting on his being. “I – I love – being so close to someone – to you – so _amazing,_ I’m–” Harry felt Draco’s mouth-watering ministrations intensify at his words, “-Squirt inside me! Fill me up, while I’m cumming – please, I’m so close!”  
  
  
  
Draco’s hands slid down smoothly over Harry’s hips, helping him to move along with every movement and motion. “You're so tight, so perfect. I-I'll give it my cum, all of it!” Draco panted, not knowing where the debauched words were coming from,  
  
and not really giving a care about them either. “C-Cumming…too good!”  
  
  
  
Draco’s purpled prick burst inside, swelling and twitching as it spat every last drop into Harry’s body. He could feel Harry’s jerking into his stomach, drizzling wantonly need, the pre-emission drooling onto Draco’s breathless torso. He gazed down at the neglected organ and rolled his hand round over it generously, pulling down the foreskin and tugging the way Harry’s liked. He looked up into those wet eyes, his own smouldering. “Cum for me, come on, cum all over me.”  
  
  
  
Those words undid him as those thrusts continued to punish his swollen hotspot. His body jerked backwards and he creamed himself then, the first pulse of white-hot climax splashed up high over Draco’s chin, the rest spattering messily over the blond’s pale chest and torso. Harry toppled forwards, lying against him while his body twitched and convulsed in the aftershocks, milking Draco dry with his tight chute.  
  
  
  
Draco’s head fell into Harry’s chest, cock still pulsing madly inside. Everything was so hot. He felt his heart racing as he gasped for air like a marathon runner. “So…so good,” he panted, unable to move his head away.  
  
  
  
“Hmm,” Harry agreed dazedly, his lashes fluttering against his cheeks. His breathing slowed naturally but his heart was still thumping wildly in his chest. His back, however was protesting at the position. Sitting up a little, he ignored Draco’s raised brow of questioning and summoned his wand to hand. A quiet, murmured spell under his breath transfigured the chair they were on into a plush couch. Caring less about the mess over Draco’s body and the cum dripping from his gaping hole, Harry dropped his wand, settling into the cushioned corner, his eyelids drooping sleepily.  
  
  
  
“Don’t look at me like that,” he murmured, “you can easily change it back. Are you going to complain or are you going to come here?” He asked, beckoning him closer to lie next to him. Draco surveyed his sex-battered, naked form for a moment and Harry felt himself surprised that he was actually concerned – worried that Draco might refuse…  
  
  
  
After snarling at the sofa Draco carefully shifted across. “What?” He asked dumbly, when Harry seemed to expect something. “I moved closer, so what?” Harry flushed at him. But then he saw Draco’s gaze lingering on his entrance and he snapped his legs shut, embarrassed.   
  
  
  
Draco looked away thoughtfully. “He left you with a bit of scarring down there,” he murmured abruptly, not having looked very close before and now feeling a little guilty for what had just happened. Did he go careful enough? For Harry and the baby? “You're – you're alright, right? I mean, I… Sorry if I was rough,” He said simply when Harry ushered him closer.   
  
  
  
“W-Will you…” Harry began. Draco turned to face him then, their eyes locking, the troubled look reflecting in Draco’s becoming suddenly all too visible.   
  
“Will I what?” He demanded impatiently.  
  
  
  
Harry considered him a moment, his lips parting but then, he stopped, turning his face to the side. Nervousness swelled in his stomach, a furious, inescapable fluttering of anxiety. “L-Lie down…lie down next to me?” He asked softly, still not looking back at him. A stagnant moment and then, in the silence, he heard the rustling of Draco moving closer. He shifted (still without looking) to allow the blond to lie down next to him, spooning into his side.  
  
  
  
Harry pressed into him as far as he could go, staring at the floor anxiously as he waited, and waited…  
  
  
  
A low exhalation shuddered from those lips, dusting his kiss-bruished throat and then he felt a warm hand slide along his chest, embracing him. Something in his chest caught, something nervous and yet exciting in the same instant – like his first kiss and he reached up to cover that hand with his own hesistantly. That fluttering feeling remained, his lungs tight and breathless and Harry closed his eyes, finding the courage behind his lids to move that hand downwards onto the subtle swell of his stomach.  
  
  
  
Draco stilled behind him. In shock, no doubt, Harry thought, his heart pounding like a stampeed of wild beasts in his ribcage. Was his breathing heavier? Why was this more nerve-wracking than the sex? So much closer and intimate and…soothing…  
  
  
  
“Is my…does it really look nasty now? _Down there,_ I mean?” Harry asked huskily, still too afraid to turn to look in those eyes right now, “Has he really messed it up?”  
  
  
  
“N-No it's… Well, it is a mess, but it's – I don't care about that, it’s not important. Wounds and scars go away eventually anyway, don't they?” Draco said, struggling to reassure him by the sounds of it. He knew what it was like to feel tarnished, he didn’t want Harry to feel that. His hand brushed over the bump of Harry’s stomach slowly, carefully caressing the skin briefly. Then he held his hand still over it, eyes locked thoughtfully on where his hand lay.  
  
  
  
“Do you…? Do you still hate it, our baby?” Draco asked cautiously, not sure if he really wanted the honest answer. “Do you still think it's a mess? This _situation_?”  
  
  
  
Harry finally turned a little then to look at him. Draco started at the movement but Harry’s hand kept his planted on his abdomen. His eyes glistened a little as they met Draco’s. Again, his mouth moved with soundless, unsure motions, fighting to find the right (honest) words within himself before he could force them from his lips. “I think it’s still a messy situation,” he said honestly, “It’s not ideal, with your father and you know,” he looked uncomfortable suddenly. “How this all started… But wounds and scars go away eventually, don’t they?” He replied, echoing his words with the smallest of smiles playing at his lips.  
  
  
  
Perhaps it was the hormones creating such neediness in him, such hopeless desires for the comfort he had never had before now. He was greedy, voracious for it. Whatever he felt for Draco he wanted this feeling, had longed for it for years and now he finally had it, he could almost forget the pain he had endured before this tenderness came – _almost.  
  
  
  
I can’t forget what he did, just like he can’t forget what I nearly did to the baby,_ he thought. _But…_  
  
  
  
“I don’t hate it, just like I don’t hate you,” he assured him, but beyond that he could not say. How could he explain this intimate closeness he felt right now, at times like these? How could he tell him of his feelings when he had no idea of them himself? “I don’t think I’ve ever really hated either of you – it was…it was _me_ that I didn’t like, the things I had to feel…”  
  
  
  
“I see, well that's…” Draco didn't even know where he was going with this, nor why he’d asked. He looked at Harry carefully. “I'm glad you don't _hate it_. I wouldn’t like to think our – _my child_ would be born loathed by one of it’s parents, even if it doesn’t know you,” Draco admitted honestly. “And I don't want you to hate living at the manor. I just want you…well I want to…”  
  
  
  
How could he possibly say he wanted to make the most of his time with Harry, there was no clear way without slaughtering what pride he had left. “I don't really know what I'm trying to say,” He whispered lowly, the heat from his breath travelling over Harry’s damp skin.  
  
  
  
“I – don’t tell it that I hate it, that I didn’t want it, please?” Harry begged, even as exhaustion tried to take him. “I…I spent my whole life knowing that I was hated, unwanted by the people who raised me – I wouldn’t want that for anyone, especially my own…” He trailed off with a little flush. He had been about to say ‘my own child’ – something he had not said aloud to Draco, ever. “I want it to be happy and… _loved_. Don’t let anyone tell it we didn’t love it?”  
  
  
  
His voice was slipping as was his conciousness, his exhaustion soothed by the slow circles beind drawn on his belly with Draco’s fingertips.   
  
  
  
“It will know I love it, I'll tell it day in day out how much I care for it, and it – it doesn’t need to know about you at all until it’s ready. I won’t tell it you didn’t want him, or her,” He said. His tongue swept over his suddenly dry lips then, in preparation of his next words.   
  
  
  
“I-I think I want to ask my father about what happened, if you're alright with that? It…it might make things worse though…”  
  
  
  
Harry opened his mouth sleepily to reply but before he could answer, a familiar _‘pop’_ sounded and their house elf appeared before them. Harry blushed, pulling his discarded robe up over himself for cover. “What do you want, Eric?” He asked the little creature.  
  
“There is a visitor for Master – _Draco_ , Sir,” Eric replied squeakily, bowing low, “I have kept them in the main drawing room, Sir.”  
  
Harry frowned, looking over to Draco, “Thank you, Eric, that will be all…” With that, the elf disappeared with another _‘pop’_ leaving Harry and Draco quite alone once more.  
  
  
  
“Visitors?” He asked, trying to keep the suspicion from his voice. He watched Draco carefully as he stood, his hand lingering on Harry’s stomach as long as possible, but the blond seemed as surprised as he. A low sigh left his lips. “Do you mind if I rest here for a bit? Just a little tired…”  
  
  
  
Draco gave him a small nod while he pulled on his trousers and shirt, unsure of who or _what_ could be waiting for him below in the drawing room…  
  
  
  
He walked the clear, echoing halls, the marble clicking under his feet as he moved. The Manor was silent, but his thoughts were screaming. He was becoming soft, tender with Harry, with this child and he wasn’t sure he could afford to be. Click, click, click, sounded on the floor, the portraits of his ancestors turning to watch him as he walked. His father had taught him a hard lesson – one could never afford to be soft. But if, like his father he were too hard, he would lose them both. Too much tenderness, weakness and he could never protect them, not from his father, not from anyone…  
  
  
  
 _A Malfoy is meant to be strong,_ he thought, coming to a halt at the door to the room where his _visitor_ was waiting. _I was weak in the war, I let people use my weakness to use me, I let my own father use me as his pawn_ , his teeth set tight in his jaw at the memory of how little he had meant to his father, even then. Even now, he and Harry were being used for Lucius’s improved status and name…  
  
  
  
 _I have to be strong now,_ he thought, _if I am stronger, I can protect my son or daughter – I can…I can maybe…I can make Harry stay…?_  
  
  
  
The door opened under his hand then, and his eyes widened with shock as he shut the door behind him. This was the last person he _ever_ expected to darken his door.  
  
  
  
“I came to apologise for Ron and Ginny’s behaviour earlier today,” the red-haired, round woman explained, taking advantage of the silence Draco was stunned to. She moved forwards, her plump hands wrapped around a large jar which she offered to Draco with a smile. “And to give him his ginger tea that he forgot – helps with the morning sickness you know.” She studied his face as he moved a little towards the door, pondering calling Harry down. Perhaps the elf was mistaken on which _Mr Malfoy_ she had asked for?  
  
  
  
“No – no, Dear,” she said softly, patting his hand as she set the jar of ginger tea in it. “Don’t fetch him, it is perfectly alright, it was actually _you_ that I wanted to speak with.”  
  
  
  
Draco stopped in thoughts to grab Harry when she infromed him she was here to see him, and not Harry. It took a moment for that to register. “Me?” He asked surprised. “Er, take a seat then, I suppose,” he offered cautiously and she gave a small nod, taking a seat on his green, elaborately embroidered settee that sat nearest the door.  
  
  
  
“What is it?” Draco asked suspiciously. He wasn't quite sure what she had to say or why she was even here. She couldn’t have come all that way to deliver some tea, could she? “Everything is okay, isn’t it? With our contract regarding your businesses? Since Harry – since we married you have been kept in good wealth as promised?”  
  
  
  
Mrs Weasley surveyed him carefully with that oddly kind, warm smile. He had insulted the woman often enough as a schoolboy, it seemed odd to see her smiling at him. “I think circumstances could be better,” she said softly, “Harry and yourself could have come together on better conditions, however, that isn’t why I am here…” She must have seen his discomfort in her company, in her voice for her smile tipped up a little more in understanding.  
  
  
  
“My dear boy, Harry is quite important to me, _to us_ , as you must know. He is like a son to Arthur and I, just as much as Ron – and he has seemed very…distant, not himself since he entered into this…‘contract’, did you call it?” She shook her head slightly, “Peculiar name for a marriage, but in any case, he has perked up a tad on his most recent visits and I am sure that…that the baby has something to do with it.”  
  
  
  
Draco’s eyes widened with shock again, not knowing whether to believe her or not. It seemed a little too good to be true, but she was Harry’s makeshift family, wasn’t she? She would know, wouldn’t she?  
  
  
  
“When Hermione had little Hugo and she was going through her darkest patch, we held a surprise bash. We thought, perhaps you might agree to letting us hold one for Harry and the baby. It may help him come to terms with it, feel happy about it more freely. But, of course, it wouldn’t work unless you were to attend to.” She saw the sceptiscim in Draco’s eyes but he remained silent at first, and so she waited for his verdict.  
  
  
  
“I see,” He said coldy, but just as his lips parted with a rejection, he stopped. Why shouldn't he? He may not have grown up to like this family, his father had conditioned his hatred of them, but then, he had conditioned his hatred of muggles also, and his son or daughter had Lily Potter’s – _a mudblood’s_ lineage as well. He sighed softly. He owed his child more than this, and Harry for that matter, he did want them _both_ after all. He supposed (even though it seemed very cheesy at best) Harry would like it.  
  
  
  
“If you arrange it, I suppose I can be there. although im not sure how you would get me there before Harry, he – he doesn't like to be left alone too often.”  
  
  
  
Mrs Weasley’s smile was never-faltering. “Perhaps we could arrange it and you could bring him? He would like to have everyone he cares for under the same roof, for once, I am sure,” she said, getting to her feet. “I’ll make the arrangements then and keep in contact.” She paused in her journey to the door then, turning to face him once more, her smile slipping a little.  
  
  
  
“And Mr Malfoy?” She said, beckoning his gaze to her again, “Harry has faced a great deal of loss and pain, I like to think that perhaps, given enough effort, you might be able to make this marriage happy for him. Might be able to give him that…that something that no one else has managed to do, a lasting happiness. But that possibility won’t save you if you ever, ever hurt him,” her voice was low now, menacing like a rattlesnake protecting her brood.  
  
  
  
“I have seen a great few bruises in the last few months, seen him limp in the last few days. I urge you to take care with him, he is resilient, but not indestructible.”  
  
  
  
“Right,” Draco replied simply. He knew Harry not indestructible. He was well aware that the boy who lived was only human, now more than ever. If anything, he cherished Harry, like a jewel, even if not at first. This obsession with him had always been there. Harry was everything, he had been ever since he had rejected his hand in friendship. Even when he was forced to take the dark mark, forced to kiss the Dark Lord’s arse, all he was thinking about…was Harry.  
  
  
  
His eyes widened then, at the sudden, crashing realisation. _I really do love him, I always have…_  
  
  
  
“I-I want to,” he said at last, finding his voice, “He is going to be alright with me,” Draco assured her, giving her the small but genuine smile that she probably needed to see. To his surprise she smiled back as he closed the door. They needed to know he cared. He couldn't keep hiding this. Especially from the people who loved Harry just as much as he did, maybe more. He didn't want Harry to feel like he couldn't call this his home, not anymore.   
  
  
  
Slowly he climbed the stairs, the silence before he reached the room was deadly, a million thoughts rushing through his overcrowded mind. He needed him, it wasn't just the baby, he needed both. He couldn't choose, he knew Harry would leave but he…he had to try and _do something._  
  
  
  
  
  
 _~To Be Continued..._


	14. Unearthing Truths

  
  
[Fourteen]  
  
 **Unearthing Truths**  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
A few days after the visit from Mrs Weasley (that Harry still knew little about) took them into mid-November, where little or no light broke the curtains in the morning. As it was, Harry rolled over into the warmth at his side, still partially asleep as his lashes fluttered, not really registering Draco for what he was – the warmth he was pressing himself into. “Sleeeeeping,” Harry murmured incoherently, his eyes closing again, his body pressing into Draco’s side.   
  
  
  
His belly squirmed, but the nausea didn’t wake him (thanks to Mrs Weasley’s tea). He’d been sleeping heavier the last few days, most likely to make up for the rest he’d lost in the first four months, but the frantic increase in his sex drive…that had inspired the most graphic dreams…  
  
  
  
It was like lying under a canopy of trees on a warm summer’s afternoon, the ground soft and inviting beneath him, the air making pictures of long, pale fingers caressing his exposed flesh. The light above flickered beautifully through the leaves and Harry hummed softly at the tender touches smoothing up the length of his body, worshipping him from the roots of his hair to his toes.  
  
  
  
Back in the bed, Draco shifted, but only enough to look down at Harry’s face. Yes, he was definitely asleep, despite his low sighs and squirms. He felt an odd feeling in his chest when Harry snuggled closer, the dark-haired boy’s hips rocking gently into him. “Hmmm…” Harry mumbled in sleep again, “nice…” Those lips remained parted, those soft, sleeping breaths whispering past them invitingly. “…nice…nice blond hair…”  
  
  
  
Draco brought a hand to his hair unconciously, his eyes wide. _He is definitely asleep, isn’t he?_ Draco’s fingers swept through his hair thoughtfully as Harry edged even closer against him. Draco flushed. _He thinks I have nice hair?! He’s_ dreaming _about me?!_ Draco smirked at those lips which seemed to be parting for further speech. He slowly and carefully laid his head back on the pillow and gazed at his husband, wondering what the next words to fall from those lips would be.  
  
  
  
Harry squirmed in sleep again. Yes, he felt those lips making a path down his torso, white-gold strands falling loose from those shoulders, spilling onto his belly as that head dipped to make love to him with his mouth. The strands slid over his skin, caressing him with every sweeping movement of his head…  
  
  
  
“Draco…nice hair…so soft…” he repeated huskily, moving into the too-gentle (imaginary) movments of his dream-Draco, leaving the real one frozen in awe and speechless. “Hnn…touches…more like that…soffffft…”  
  
  
  
Draco’s eyes widened further, if that were possible, in a mixture of shock and awe. He ran his hand up into his hair and pulled it loose from the hairband it was bound with. Throwing the tie aside, the locks fell over his shoulder as he touched them, he had never considered his hair as a attractive trait before. Well – no more overly special a trait than the rest of his faultless body.  
  
  
  
 _I wonder how he would react if I made a real effort with it today?_ He thought slyly. At that, he got up quietly, hurrying into the bathroom. By the time he returned Harry was still sleeping, only this time when Draco crawled back into bed beside him, his hair was clean and plaited , a couple of strands hanging over the front of his face. He smiled with flushed cheeks. He couldn't wait to see Harry when he woke…  
  
  
  
Those lips looked as if they wanted to say more. Had he missed much in his brief absence? Those eyes twitched and Draco lay there watching him contentedly. His hand slid down under the covers and traced over Harry’s small bump.  
  
  
  
“Yours…” Harry breathed, still incoherent and deep in slumber. He hadn’t had a dream where he was still pregnant in it yet, and it was a totally new sensation when those tender touches slid over his stomach, which, like everything else was warm and gentle. “S’yours…I’m yours…” It was almost a quiet moan then as pleasure grew hot in his tummy. He rolled tighter into the warmth sliding along his body. He’d never had a dream so nice before, so accustomed to nightmares of the horrors he had seen.  
  
  
  
But there were no horrors here, not a shadow. Nothing but light touched him, glistening along the blond halo of hair above him and he smiled subtly in his sleep.   
  
  
  
Draco ran his hand around the bump, watching Harry’s expressions change rapidly, it was fasinating to see. Every noise, every sound, it was all coming from an unrestrained, innocent place deep inside Harry’s being and Draco couldn't get enough. It was quite amazing. Harry’s eyelshes flickered, Draco lent back, but Harry merely rolled on his back with a sigh.  
  
  
  
The brilliance of the light was fading slowly into a warm, subtle glow of the sun barely rising and Harry felt it on the back of his lids, basking in that warmth, clinging to it a moment longer before his lashes fluttered. When his eyes opened, however, the warmth didn’t fade with the light and he found himself staring up into Draco’s content expression. He blinked, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.  
  
  
  
“Morning,” he murmured softly, cheeks flushed with the memories of his intimate dream that lingered, combined with waking up snuggled into Draco’s body. A hand was petting his stomach pleasantly and he couldn’t help the peculiar flutter in his stomach, the tightness in his chest at feeling this closeness on waking. They’d never been this close before when it wasn’t post-sex.   
  
  
  
“Err…sleep well?” He asked, wondering why Draco was smiling at him like that.  
  
  
  
“Yep, I slept fine,” Draco answered, grinning. “You?” He asked, flicking his hair over his shoulder so Harry might notice. His insides tingled with fire as he saw his husband blush. This was so amusing. “Did you dream about anything nice?”  
  
  
  
Harry’s eyes went wide at the sight of Draco’s locks sweeping over his shoulder, an embarrassing flare of heat building in his cheeks. It was as if his dream were…  
  
  
  
“Uhh…yeah, I think so,” he replied warily, wondering if maybe, just maybe… “Sleeping better since the morning sickness eased, thanks to that tea – umm, did you, I didn’t wake you by rolling into you did I?” He asked, tactfully avoiding the words ‘cuddled into you’, despite how he was enjoying the embrace.   
  
  
  
“No, but I did wake up with you clinging to me, murmuring in your sleep,” Draco teased, to which Harry tensed. “Nothing that I could make out,” Draco said quickly, it was more fun to watch Harry react to teasing than to go right ahead and tell him. He brushed his hand off then and released the hairband from the bottom of his plait. His hair fell forwards, cascading over his shoulders. This was the first time Harry had seen it like this, no doubt. Loose and shining, as if freshly conditioned and he was beet red at the sight.   
  
  
  
“What? Why you staring at me?” Draco asked, pretending to be dumb. It was so delightful, that blush. He flicked his hair back then for another reaction.  
  
  
  
“I – you’re taking the piss out of me,” Harry said, stunned with embarrassment. “I can’t help what I dream, if you didn’t like it you shouldn’t have listened,” he insisted, but did nothing to struggle when Draco pressured his shoulder, pushing him flat onto his back so that Draco could see all of him. “Don’t mock me,” Harry warned him, but Draco’s eyes remained shining with amusement, “I – I don’t even know what I dreamt about! I don’t know what I was saying!”  
  
  
  
 And still that hair hanging from his face seemed be where Harry’s eyes kept drifting too, keeping the smirk on Draco’s lips while he loomed over him. “Hmm, is that so? Because it was a dream it doesn't count, hmm? You know they say that dreams are your deepest, most suppressed desires?” Draco said, chuckling softly. He was in a very good mood this morning. “So deny what you will, but you seemed to be talking about me more than you would ever admit.”  
  
  
  
Harry swore his complexion would never return to normal. His insides seemed to have knotted together. And _damn_ him if his cock wasn’t stirring in his loose pyjama bottoms in reaction to the sight of Draco’s hair like… _that_ …  
  
  
  
It had come loose after sex sometimes, but he’s never worn it purposefully that way, never used it to tease him. The memory of his dream made his erection swell and he prayed Draco didn’t notice, trying not to consider all the possibilities the dream had opened his eyes to. “I… How do you know I dreamt of you?!” He snarled but he knew it was a lost case, Draco had heard enough to still be smirking down at him with a mixture of amusement and contentment.   
  
  
  
“F-Fine,” he hissed, “So I dreamt of you – maybe, does that satisfy you?” He turned his head to the side to avoid looking at Draco then, but the hand that had been caressing his belly reached up to grasp his chin, turning him back again.  
  
  
  
“Hmm, it _does_ satisfy me, tell me more of this dream?” Draco insisted, his expressions turning the darkest of seductions to amusement, before turning back into a passionate grin. His fingers remained on Harry’s chin and those green narrowed with embarrassed frustration. “Well?” Draco probed, making sure to grind himself purposefully over those tense nether regions.  
  
  
  
Harry struggled to glare up at him, even with his eyes glazed over and his cock hardening at Draco’s ministrations. “I – It sounds like you’ve a better idea of it than me,” Harry tried quietly but then Draco leant further over him, his blond locks spilling over his shoulders to create a golden curtain around their faces. Harry inhaled sharply at the image. “Y-Your – your bloody hair!” he ground out, “It was about your hair! And you, touching me in…in a certain way!”  
  
  
  
He swore the ground was about to open up and swallow him whole. He had earnt that release from this embarrassment, hadn’t he?  
  
  
  
Draco grinned then, leaning close and planting a heavy kiss on those lips, feeding his tongue inside, working his eager muscle around the slick cavern of Harry’s mouth. Wetly he battled with his husband’s own tongue, laving it deliciously before drawing back breathlessly.   
  
  
  
“Thank you, for being honest. But when you say _touching_ … How do you mean?” Draco persisted.  
  
  
  
Harry’s eyes flicked up, his gaze darting between his eyes and his lips, as if undecided on the best reply. “Tenderly,” He murmured, so low that the sound was barely comprehensible. “Like you meant it, all over – like I – like I was…” His words failed him then and he felt the warmth of Draco’s entire body touching him in every reachable place, completely eclipsed from the rest of the world around them – just like his dream…  
  
  
  
Harry’s arms wrapped around his neck then, ensnaring him in a tight grip and tugging him down for their lips to mesh together wetly. He moaned into the hot, slick tongue ravaging his own lips and felt that hair cascade over his own skin, making him wriggle up against him for more, more contact.  
  
  
  
Those hands were both on him, caressing his stomach softly and he closed his eyes, wondering just how messed up he must be for enjoying that so much. Slowly, he pressed himself up into Draco’s body, his ever-eager cock seeking attention. He felt Draco chuckle into his mouth.  
  
  
  
“You want it, hmm?” Draco purred, running his fingers carefully over the aching bulge in Harry’s undergarments. “You want me to – to touch you so tenderly you dream about it?”  
  
  
  
“Yes!” Harry answered. Maybe far too quickly than he cared for and Draco’s smirk only grew thicker. He sat back and his hair fell back over his shoulders.   
  
“Hmm, well, I have to go to work now,” Draco announced, slowly climbing off the bed without a second glance at Harry, whose expression seemed to have darkened with frustration. Draco laughed at the look on his face, the way his eyebrows tilted inward.   
  
  
  
“If you want me that much, take a picture and jerk yourself off!” He joked, but Harry only looked more annoyed. A pregnant man scorned was just as bad as a woman, Draco would soon realise, if he hadn’t already…  
  
  
  
Harry watched him with a mixture of shock and fury knotting his features. The blond smiled devilishly at him as he made over to the armoire, pulling it open and gathering his work clothes from it, slowly pulling them on. “I – you – you can’t just _leave me_!” He insisted. He could see Draco watching him in the mirror on the open armoire door, smirking at his furious reflection. He made to leap from the bed and _demand_ his rapt attention, but no sooner had he contemplated it than a loud _‘pop’_ sounded and that damned house elf appeared, floating a full tray of breakfast onto the bed before him.   
  
  
  
“Master Harry Malfoy needs to eat _all_ of this to keep his strength up! He be eating for two now, Sir!” Eric chimed cheerily, hopping onto the bed to tuck a napkin down Harry’s pyjama shirt collar.  
  
“Stop that!” Harry insisted, swatting him away lightly, “And don’t call me that!”  
  
“As Master Harry Malfoy wishes,” The elf chimed, pouring our two glasses of pumpkin juice. Harry could _feel_ Draco’s silent amusement at the predicament from across the room!  
  
  
  
“How can I eat all this?” Harry griped, his mood dwindling now (thanks to Draco’s rejection) as the elf hopped across the room to open the curtains and let in the early morning rays. “If I eat it all I’ll be as big as Hagrid!”  
  
  
  
“Eric is not knowing what a _Hagrid_ is, Sir, but you'll be even bigger in a few months anyway,” The elf reminded him.  
  
  
  
Draco knotted his tie but neglected to bind his hair back, deciding to keep it down for today as he walked over to Harry and planted a kiss on his forehead. “Have a good day, _Dear_ ,” he joked, watching Harry clutch the fork tighter in his hand. “Do you want me to bring you anything home?”   
  
  
  
Harry shook his head, determined to sulk. But his condition had other ideas and he swiftly changed his mind. “Wait, there is _something_ …?”   
  
Draco turned to him then. “What?”   
  
Harry bit on his lip awkwardly. “I have cravings…”   
  
Draco sighed dramatically, feigning impatience. He couldn’t admit he _liked_ getting things for Harry, after all. “What do you want?”  
  
  
  
Harry watched him carefully for a moment, wondering if Draco really would do something so menial as bringing him back something? He had arranged for Eric to bring him an over-sized breakfast in bed every morning for a few weeks now, had the sheets changed everyday and the bath oils replaced to better suit his aches and pains – but this would be the first thing he did _personally_ …  
  
  
  
“Vanilla ice-cream,” he said at last, “a big tub of it.” He doubted Draco had ever eaten anything as plain and common as vanilla ice-cream, but that wasn’t the issue (the test) here…  
  
  
  
“You want ice-cream?” He asked, amused. “Alright, I suppose that’s to do with our – I mean, my child then...” Draco flinched, turning his head away. He had just referred to it as _theirs_. “I-I'll get you your ice-cream,” He said, opening the door to let himself out of the bedroom. “Eric will keep you company today, but should you want to go out, make sure to reseal the wards,” Draco reminded him.  
  
  
  
Harry just nodded with a sigh, plucking the letters from the breakfast tray and flicking through them. “There is one for you here – I recognise the writing…”  
  
“That is for Master Draco Malfoy!” Eric squeaked, snatching the parchment out of Harry’s hands and rushing over to give it to Draco. Harry’s brows drew in with suspicion, but his only reply was Draco’s characteristic smirk before he closed the door behind him, leaving him alone.   
  
  
  
On his way toward the fireplace in their lounge, Draco pulled open the letter, grateful that Harry hadn’t seen it. That Mrs Weasley’s neat handwriting spelled out a very short note to him…  
  
  
  


> _Dear Draco,_
> 
> _All is ready for this Sunday if you would be so kind as to bring Harry and yourself over at around four-thirty. We were just wondering, in terms of gifts, what you may be getting Harry yourself? So that we do not fetch him and the baby the same things?_
> 
> _Let us know._
> 
> _See you both on Sunday._
> 
> _M. Weasley_

  
  
  
  
Draco stared down at the memo with surprise, the look still not leaving his face even as he tossed it into the fire, watching it burn away into nothingness. He reached for the floo powder then. He hadn’t thought that he would have to get Harry a present for this… _gathering_. He didn’t really know what went on at such things, having no real close friends that had held one (and certainly not being the type to be invited to one if they had). He had to get Harry (and the baby) a present? What the hell type of present did someone buy a pregnant boy and an unborn baby with currently no known gender?  
  
  
  
He took hold of the floo powder and threw it into the base of the fireplace, the green flames enveloping him hungrily, sweeping him away to the Daily Prophet office. He was certain he’d get no work done today, his thoughts were elsewhere, as always…  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
“Master Harry Malfoy, Sir, you haven't eaten everything on the plate!” The elf croaked, when he returned to him to take the tray from his hand. Harry just gave him a look that insisted he keep his mouth shut. And Eric bowed low. “Eric is being sorry, Sir, but Master Draco Malfoy has set me these orders…”  
  
  
  
“Draco ordered you to badger me with food–?”   
  
  
  
“Yes Sir! He cares about you and the baby Malfoy very much so!” And again Harry growled under his breath, to himself this time. Having thought (though now he wasn't sure why) that the elf was the one who wanted him to eat all of this. He should have realised, considering the elf followed Draco’s orders as well as his own.  
  
  
  
“Eric,” he said carefully, the elf was his servant too, however and could not directly disobey him. “You’ve been Draco’s personal house elf since he was born? You were the one that helped Narcissa with him and you’ve been his servant since then, am I right?”  
  
  
  
Staring at him as if he knew this was going somewhere it shouldn’t; Eric just nodded, fiddling with the little black bow tie around his neck. “Yes, Master Harry Malfoy, Sir, I has always been taking care of Master Draco.”  
  
“So you know him, you’ll know if he will be a good father to our – _his_ baby?” He asked, leaning forwards a little across the breakfast tray, forgetting the sausage and egg he had speared onto his fork whilst awaiting his answer.   
  
  
  
Eric nodded frantically, evidently wanting to help Draco’s reputation. _But he can’t lie to me,_ Harry remembered, _I am his joint master, he can only tell me the truth…_  
  
  
  
“Yes! Master Harry Malfoy, Sir! Master Draco is being a snotty little brat when he is young, Sir, but he has changed – humans change when bad things happen to them, Sir.” Then, as if only just realising he had called his master a ‘snotty little brat’, he leapt for Harry’s butter knife.  
  
  
  
“NO! Eric, stop! I order you to stop!” Harry shouted and immediately, the elf dropped the knife, staring up at Harry with big, watery blue eyes.  
  
“Thank you, Master Harry Malfoy, Sir, but I is being disrespectful–”  
  
“-You are never to punish yourself again, do you understand me?” Harry insisted, remembering his old friend Dobby…  
  
  
  
Before the elf could say or do anything, Harry pressed on. “Tell me about the bad things, Eric. Do you mean Vol– You Know Who? Do you mean when he was stationed here? When Draco chose to become a death–”  
  
“Master Draco is never choosing that, Master Harry Malfoy, Sir,” Eric corrected him, looking as if he would have forked himself in the arm for interrupting had Harry not ordered him not to.   
  
  
  
“Master Draco is being…how do the humans say it, Sir? _All talk_?   
  
He is being forced to become a bad man by _Him_ , but he is never truly bad, Sir. Master Draco is being threatened, and his mother, by _Him,_ he does it to save them both, Sir. Even from a distance he is forced to do his bad deeds, but he is doing it with half-heartedness. He is changing from the boastful child he was. He is being terrified of _Him_ and of the Dark Lord–”  
  
  
  
“Wait!” Harry said, cutting him off in his ramblings, “When you say _Him_ , you don’t mean Voldemort?” The elf shuddered at the name, and Harry remembered why he hadn’t used the name with the elf before.  
  
“No, Master Harry Malfoy, Sir – _Him_ , the one poor Dobby fled, Sir, the one who beats the house elves here and treats them like vermin, unlike the Lady Narcissa and Master Draco, Sir. _Him_!”  
  
  
  
Harry’s eyes widened and he rest back into the headboard, staring out across the room in realisation. “Draco has always been controlled by Lucius, hasn’t he? I thought he planned this marriage contract, I thought he’d arranged it somehow to get me here. But he really hates me here, he hates my influence on Draco, doesn’t he?” He watched Eric nod frantically, crawling up his bed to cling to his pyjama legs.   
  
“Yes! Master Harry Malfoy, Sir! He is hating you! He is plotting against you! He is cursing you for changing Draco, saying you is making him weak – but it is not weak, Sir, you is saving Master Draco!”  
  
  
  
Harry sat up again, gripping his servant by his skinny little arms and pulling him upright. Why was the elf so relieved? So grateful to finally tell him? Could it be the elf was worried, for Draco?  
  
  
  
“Saving him? Saving him from what?” Harry demanded.  
  
“From himself! From killing himself slowly to escape _His_ thumb, Sir!” Eric cried. “Mistress Narcissa is not knowing, is not seeing it all to start – _He_ is good with memory charms, Sir, but when we is slipping Mistress something so that she can resist the charms, Master Draco is already being old enough to understand the…the shame of being weak, of asking for help and he does not let her see anymore, Sir.”  
  
  
  
Harry nodded, his brain hurting with everything he was trying to process. His heart hammered in his chest. How could he ever had known that the family behind the smug little brat he had met in Madam Malkins’ when they were eleven years old, had such a dark and sinister leader?  
  
  
  
“Lucius hates me because I don’t play by the rules, because I resist. Because I give Draco a reason to resist, a reason far more important than keeping quiet just so his mother cannot see the shame, am I right?” Eric nodded in answer to Harry’s question. “So he didn’t make the contract up – the contract is real…”  
  
“Forgiving me, Master Harry Malfoy, Sir, but the contract is real regardless of who made it up, because you signed it, Sir. But _He_ was not the one to make it, Master, he was not the one to bind you and Master Draco…”  
  
  
  
Harry’s heart stopped then and his green eyes slowly drew back to Eric, his fingers tightening around the elf’s skinny arms. He was shaking. He felt sick. “Who made up the contract?” The elf said nothing, his eyes going huge. He shook his head. Harry’s jaw clenched so hard his face hurt. “It wasn’t real, was it?! We didn’t have to get married to save our inheritance, our families. It wasn’t real!”  
  
  
  
“No!” Eric cried, “No, Sir! It is real because you signed it, to break the unbreakable vow of the contract will kill you, Sir, and to divorce or annul it would still mean you lose everything, because you both signed it!”  
  
“So we would have been free, would have been fine if we never touched the paper?” He felt his veins throb with liquid fury, as if they may burst from overload at any moment. Eric nodded again, tears rolling down his tanned, wrinkled skin now.   
  
  
  
“And Master Draco had no idea, Sir, he still has no idea, he knows as much as you, Sir, I swears!”  
  
“So who was it? Who lied to us? To me and Draco? Who blackmailed us in to marrying?”  
  
“Master Draco loves you, Sir, he wants you, he’s always wanted you, ever since he was a little boy…”  
  
  
  
“Tell me who created the contract!!!” Harry demanded, screaming now and the elf wailed, throwing himself face-first into Harry’s lap and bawling as if in pure agony.  
  
“SEVERUS SNAPE!!! HE AND MISTRESS NARCISSA MADE THE CONTRACT!!!” Eric screamed and if their rooms were not warded, Harry was sure that the whole world would have heard him. “But only for Master Draco, to save him, to protect him, to save him from the pain and misery, Master Harry Malfoy, Sir. Do not be angry with Master Draco, you make him happy, so happy!”  
  
  
  
“And what about me? Did they ever think to ask me?! No I was forced into this! Without a choice, without _anything_. I was used like their pawn – yet again!” Snape, Severus Snape, the only person without red hair and the Weasley name that he trusted, he had betrayed him. He bolted to his feet, nausea brewing in his belly but then, his entire body froze. Positively sick, that’s what he felt and he turned slowly, horror in his eyes as he looked at the house elf.  
  
  
  
“They planned this baby as well, didn’t they? They manipulated me, they planned _all of_ this…?”  
  
  
  
“Sir, please? You need to be sitting back down,” The elf ushered. “You is needing to _rest_.”  
  
  
  
“TELL ME?!” Harry screamed.   
  
  
  
“Y-Yes sir, they planned it, all of it!” The elf was curling up now, but he had to obey his master’s orders, both Harry’s and Draco’s despite the situation.   
  
  
  
“How? How did they do this? Snape and Mrs Malfoy? _How_?”  
  
  
  
“S-Severus S-Snape, he…there is being a potion, Sir.”  
  
  
  
Harry’s eye's stung then, with the most shocking pain of bitterness slicing through him. Angry, betrayed tears streamed down his cheeks. “And Draco, he has no idea about this?”  
  
  
  
The elf shook his head manically. “No, No Sir, he has no idea. He doesn’t…Sir he doesn’t care for the _‘whys’_ because he has you and the baby and that is all that is mattering to him, Sir.”  
  
  
  
Harry lowered his head, nodding slowly. Draco was just as much of a pawn as he, that abated the hurt in his chest somewhat – _somehow_. “It’s November, Hogwarts is still in session – I am going to see Snape,” he insisted, marching over to the (still open) armoire and pulling on his loosest trousers and a shirt, not bothering with a jacket.  
  
  
  
“No, please, Sir! Do not be rushing off like this! You can’t, not in your condition, you may be hurt–”  
  
“I’ll be fine, thank you for telling me, Eric, I will be back before Draco, I imagine.”   
  
  
  
But upon peaking through the fireplace into the Headmaster’s office, he found it empty and the portrait of Albus Dumbledore informed him (with that confounded twinkle in his eye) that Snape was fetching a few supplies from hogsmeade. If that was meant to deter him, it did not. Harry pulled his head back through into the living room only long enough to seize his warm travelling cloak and to hear Eric begging him to stay before he stepped back into the grate.  
  
  
  
“The Three Broomsticks, Hogsmeade!” He growled out, throwing the powder into the flames.  
  
  
  
A whirl of chaos and ash and spluttering and he stumbled straight into the familiar old tavern, trying to avoid being seen, but in vain, as a small group spotted him immediately. “Harry, dear! We’ve heard so much in the last few months!” Exclaimed Madam Rosmerta as he marched through the pub, looking for Snape. Surely Snape would come in for a drink? “How’s the little’un doing in there–?”  
  
“Don’t!” Harry gasped out, back-stepping into the wall to avoid her touching his stomach. He could never understand that intrusive touch. What gave people the right to think they could just touch him – the baby?  
  
  
  
His mind was spinning, so was his vision. He really didn’t feel so good after all this rushing about and then the floo trip…  
  
  
  
He felt quite hot, and sick.  
  
  
  
“Snape, Severus Snape, I need to find him,” he insisted, steeling his jaw against the giddiness. The familiar woman’s face twisted thoughtfully.  
  
“Shouldn’t be wandering out alone in public and desperately seeking other men, deary,” she warned him, “People may talk. You are a married man you know…”  
  
“Where – is – Snape?” He hissed lowly, his tone heavy with impatience and anger. But no sooner had he spoken, than the door to the tavern opened, and in walked the object of his search.   
  
  
  
His mind went blank, burnt away with white-hot fury. “YOU!” He screamed, flying across the room, chairs toppling over as he stumbled towards him, his fists knotting in his robes, shaking him with as much strength as his body could muster in his condition. He glared up at the man, shaking with emotion. “Y-You did this to me!” He snarled and the potions master glanced up at the eavesdropping customers, dragging the boy outside into the snow.  
  
  
  
“Don’t tell me to calm down!!!” Harry screamed when Snape began to talk, trying to wrestle out of Snape’s grip, “You knew what Dumbledore did to me – you knew how he used me. How could you – how could you _do this to me_?! I trusted you! I trusted you and you forced me to marry Draco! I trusted you and you _poisoned_ me!”  
  
  
  
“Do _not_ talk about Draco that way!” Snape snapped defensively. “As if he himself is some, _some poison_! He had nothing and neither did you!” Not for a single moment did he begin to deny the accusations and that only made Harry feel sicker. Snape thought he was absolutely in the right? “You may not understand the reasons but what’s done is done. Harry…” He started, but Harry grasped his collar then and shoved him backwards into the brick wall of the pub with a resounding _smack._  
  
  
  
“Get your hands off of me!” Snape insisted darkly, removing Harry’s hands from his collar forcibly.  
  
  
  
“That isn’t what I meant you conniving old prick!” Harry snarled, leaping up and shoving the man backwards roughly. “Draco isn’t the poison, you are! You and that shit you slipped me! Supposed to help me when he gets rough was it? That’s what made me able to get bloody pregnant, you arsehole! That is more rape than _anything_ Draco ever did to me! How _dare_ you meddle in my life like that?! How dare you take the decision out of our hands?! Draco might not have _wanted_ this child and then everything would have gone wrong, wouldn’t it?!”  
  
  
  
“Of course he would want it, it is _yours_!” Snape retorted, but Harry didn’t relent, didn’t stop shoving and hitting him.  
  
“I never hated Draco, never once, but you know what? I HATE YOU! I hate you now more than I hated you for killing Dumbledore – but you’re just like him, an old, meddling fool! I can’t believe you would do this to me after everything – my life was never mine, never! And when I finally had it back you took it away from me!”  
  
  
  
He was positively quivering from the contrast of red-hot anger in his blood and the freezing snow around his shins. “I – I’m not ready to have a baby! And despite that I want it now, despite becoming closer to Draco, you had no _right_ to make that choice for me!”  
  
  
  
“And what would you have been doing instead? Your life was going nowhere, you had no one besides those infernal Weasleys. You haven't lost anything and now you have everything to lose. Don't you realise that?!”  
  
  
  
It seemed like Harry had spent most of his lifes saving others, doing what must be done. Tricked and forced into things. When was he going to get to live his own damn life for once? “I wasn't put on this planet to save people, Snape. What about me? Who is going to save _me_ when all my _duties_ are over?!”  
  
  
  
“Draco already has saved you,” Snape replied coolly, rationally, “You just do not know it yet.”  
  
  
  
Harry’s fists (still knotted in the front of his robes) loosened and he stared up at him in surprise. This morning came rushing back, but it felt distant compared to the hurt he felt now, to the betrayal. This morning had been warm, tender like his dream.   
  
  
  
Knowing why and how, it didn’t change what had happened, what was happening and it didn’t change that he wasn’t so sure he _wanted_ anything to change, aside from some more obvious flaws…  
  
  
  
“I know – I know why you, you and Narcissa did this. You arranged the contract to be drawn up and conveniently found again, like on old testament, didn’t you? So that Draco… So that I could save him. But you went behind Narcissa’s back to make sure this baby came into being, didn’t you?” He prompted. Snape offered nothing but a small inclination of his head. Harry inhaled sharply.  
  
  
  
“I…I trusted you,” he breathed, “When I came to you and begged you to help me, to not let them make me you just petted me like a fearful child and sent me on my way, saying I had to… Didn’t you care that Draco was torturing me?”  
  
  
  
“Draco didn't do those things in his rational mind, he doesn't know where the line before unforgiveable is, he has no idea how to treat a person, thanks to what he has suffered. Thanks to Lucius. What is right or wrong to you or I may not register on the same scale to him. His father was the Dark Lord’s favourite for years, Harry, he is not like you or I, _work it out_!”  
  
  
  
Harry just stood there, bewildered. He didn't understand what Snape meant, not completely. As if reading his confusion, Snape’s lips drew back in irritation, before he elaborated yet further.  
  
  
  
“Draco has real horrors in his life, certain things that have, as you might say, shaped him into this monster. But according to Narcissa, since the pregnancy he has changed, in the most sensational, radical way. The look in his eyes had calmed, _settled_ , as if he had something to fight for, _someone_ to be a good man for. That’s something you give him. He needs this, even if you don't.”   
  
  
  
Snape eyed him critically then, as if pondering the best way to phrase his next words. “I know he has agreed to let you leave after the baby is born, he confided in me with that small detail himself. So at least until then, give him this child and give him what you can!”  
  
  
  
Harry’s eyes widened and a fierce, stabbing agony bolted through his chest as if a sword had run him through. His lips, chapped by the bitter November cold, moved uselessly in search for words. “I – I don’t _want_ to leave when–”   
  
  
  
CRACK!  
  
  
  
The sound echoed through the silence of the falling snow, shattering the moment, and Harry jumped, both his and Snape’s gazes flying to the three shapes that had appeared in the snow. The falling snowflakes created a mist on the world around them, and it felt perfectly isolated, as if they were not in Hogsmeade at all! Their black cloaks were a stark contrast to the white world and Harry reached for his wand, only to find it absent. He hadn’t paused in his rage to grab it before he’d come here!  
  
  
  
 _Idiot!_ He hissed! _Foolish little prat!_  
  
  
  
“Stay where you are!” Snape called to them, his wand arm aloft and moving slightly before Harry. “Don’t do anything heroic, Potter,” Snape warned him under his breath, “You have more than yourself to worry about…”  
  
Harry glanced up at him from behind. “I’m not a Potter anymore, Sir.”  
  
Snape made a noise of disdain through his teeth. “I do not think that even the _Malfoy_ name could eradicate that,” he replied, turning his attention to the approaching men, none of whom Harry recognised. But Snape knew them, purely in passing, through their _employer…_  
  
  
  
“No heroics, I promise,” Harry answered, shivering as he wrapped his travelling cloak around himself and his suddenly vulernable body. He felt naked without his wand.  
  
  
  
“Get away!” Snape snarled to the hooded men. “I suppose your _employer_ sent you, am I correct? That man know's no limits.”  
  
  
  
One of the hooded figures ducked swiftly rather quickly, striking out at Harry, aiming for his legs. “ _Flipendo_!”   
  
  
  
Harry stumbled suddenly, barely catching himself, but his legs shuddered, ached as if struck with a bat. He swore he felt the bruises brewing,   
  
  
  
“Harry, stay back!” Snape cried, tossing a curse at the attacker in retaliation. “ _Reducto_!” He shouted, and three of the four men flew backwards to avoid the flying debris as part of the brick wall exploded. The snow burst around them with the impact. Harry ducked, just in time to avoid a face full of icy snow.  
  
  
  
“Have you come with the intention to harm Harry?” Snape asked, his voice hard as he watched their attackers stumble to their feet.  
  
  
  
One of them laughed low in his throat. “He is the package, we are meant to deliver, we don’t much care for his contents or what happens to him after.” He flinched, the cockiness draining from his voice and the colour fading from his face as Snape’s wand pressed into his throat. “But we were to deliver him in one piece!” The man insisted.  
  
  
  
Harry watched the exchange, watched the man under Snape’s wand for any signs of movement that betrayed attack. He missed, however the man to the left throwing his arm across the bed of snow, hurling a hex towards him. “ _Levicorpus_!”  
  
  
  
“No!” Snape cried out, but too late as Harry’s ankles were ripped out from under him and his head cracked into the wrought-iron sign for the _Three Broomsticks_. Harry screamed at the pain as he was suspended off the ground, upside down. His vision blurred, his ears ringing and he glasses nearly slid clean off his nose, barely clinging to his face, allowing him to _just_ make out the sight of blood falling to snow beneath him. It did _not_ feel good. His belly had been jerked with the sudden hex and it felt somewhere up in his throat now. He was going to vomit…  
  
  
  
Hadn’t he read somewhere that babies can be harmed by even curses that weren’t meant for physical damage, when inside the ‘mother’ anyway? Did that mean that it was…? He flinched, his stomach lurching forebodingly. _Yep, definitely going to be sick…_  
  
  
  
Below him Snape barely dodged the slashing curse that the man under his wand had aimed at his legs. “ _Stupefy_!” He snarled and the man was knocked into unconciousness. Two left, but those two were moving fast. The man that had cast the spell on Harry bolted through the snow, nearly skidding over in the ice as he pointed his wand at Harry again.  
  
  
  
“No, don’t you idiot!” Snape snarled.  
  
“ _Liberacorpus_!” Harry screamed and came crashing back down to the ground, hard.  
  
  
  
Harry hit the floor with a clunk, before leaning to the side to vomit. He insides lurched at all the sudden movement and his mind suddenly spiraled. Snape groaned in frustration and anger, turning his wand on both of the figures quickly. “ _Stupefy_!” He shouted, not once but twice at both figures. The flew backwards and landed unconscious, flat on their backs on the icy ground.  
  
  
  
“Potter? Harry, are you alright?” Snape demanded, dragging him upwards quickly. “We need to get you out of here at once!”  
  
  
  
Harry nodded, the world spinning as he seized Snape’s robes, using his body as an anchor to pull himself to his knees. His body shook and he felt something in his stomach tremble. “Eric!” He called out to the snow and a small pop was his answer.  
  
  
  
“Master Harry Malfoy, Sir!” The elf squeaked, laying his hands on Harry’s shoulder carefully. “What is it you is calling me–?”  
  
“Take us home, to my room in the manor, please, hurry!” Eric nodded swiftly, resolutely, making sure to take hold of both Harry and Snape before disappearing with a crack. Harry felt a jerk behind his already nauseated stomach, he felt cold, freezing all over from where he had fallen in the snow. The ringing wouldn’t stop and nor would the spinning…  
  
  
  
Through it all, he could make out Snape’s voice, barking orders to him and the elf alternatively.  
  
  
  
“Get him into warm clothes and then into the bed,” Snape insisted, and marched into the bathroom, seizing all of the potion bottles he could find before returning to the room. When he saw Harry’s head lolling on his shoulders, he bolted towards him, tapping his face firmly with his palm. “Stay awake, Harry, you’ve hit your head, you have to stay awake.”  
  
  
  
Harry nodded, but the movement wasn’t convincing.  
  
  
  
“Elf, a long night shirt will do, slip it over his head and then seat him up against the cushions – he can’t fall asleep!” Eric nodded, never once arguing about taking orders from Severus. The potions master’s eyes roved the potions he had salvaged, considering which ones Harry needed most…  
  
  
  
“Something – something feels… _wrong_ …!” Harry gasped out then, suddenly more awake than he had been before, as if he had been awoken by a bucket of ice-water. He jerked up, resisting as Eric pulled the covers up around his shoulders and rubbed his shoulders to try and warm him. Harry’s teeth chattered. “M-My – my stomach, it feels…wrong…”  
  
  
  
The colour adrenaline had injected into Snape’s face suddenly drained, his own stomach plummeting. He brought his wand up to hover over the boy’s stomach. “ _Sonorus Interno_!” He hissed, as if concerned for what the spell might reveal. There was nothing for a few moments, his eyes narrowed with concern.  
  
“W-What…what’s that spell supposed to–?”  
  
“It is supposed to allow us to hear the infant’s heart,” Snape said gravely, changing the position of his wand and trying the spell again. And again. It was worryingly quiet wherever he tried. He hoped and prayed that heartbeat would come, but it was deathly silent in the room.   
  
  
  
“Please, please move,” Harry whispered, the world still blurry with his pain as he stared down at Snape’s wand. “It's…it’s dead, isn't it?” He breathed, the words a barely there whisper.  
  
  
  
Then it sounded, with a _'bu-bum, bu-bum'_ and their own heartbeats seemed to stutter for a moment.  
  
  
  
Snape’s usually cruel mouth twisted into a small smile. “Close,” He grumbled darkly, reaching inside his pile of gathering potions.  
  
  
  
“I-It hasn’t moved at all – ever, the healer promised I’d feel it move soon but–”  
  
“Do not work yourself into such a tizzy, Mr Pott– _Malfoy_ ,” Snape admonished distractedly, not once looking up at his face as he plucked a bottle filled with a sickly green coloured potion from the pile. Flicking the cork off, he dipped his wand tip in. “Many mothers do not feel their baby move until later, everyone is different, and you have bigger things to worry over now.”  
  
  
  
He pushed the sheets back and Harry hissed at the cold, and at the fact that his once-professor was up to something that involved his lower body. He watched as every drop of the green potion disappeared and Snape held his wand over his prone body once more. “I will transfer this potion inside you – it should strengthen and heal any ruptures or weak spots in your w–”  
  
“Don’t say the ‘w’ word,” Harry his, his vision stabalising but his ears still ringing. “I’m not a girl – I don’t know _what_ that potion you gave me had to do to make me able to get pregnant but I certainly don’t have a…a…one of those!”  
  
“Yes, the potion is working fine,” Snape murmured with mild amusement, “And I’d say you must stay awake for twenty-four hours as I believe you have a concussion, or it _sounds_ that way…”  
  
  
  
Harry squirmed at the uncomfortable feeling of something liquid spreading inside him, covering his aching inside swith a cool numbness. “I can’t feel anything!” He gasped but Snape pulled the covers back over him, insisting he keep warm.  
  
“That is the idea, it will heal and toughen the… _area_ where the child is, it is a very common potion for women who are prone to miscarriages…” He watched Harry flinch and readily submerge his gaze in the ginger tea Eric had brought him, drinking it down slowly.   
  
  
  
“Draco would kill me if I lost it,” Harry murmured quietly, “If it was hurt all because I rushed out of here without my wand, if I…had a _miscarriage_ all because I let the temper get the better of me…” He lowered the cup, but wrapped his palms around it, letting the warmth spread through his hands. He stared down into the warm liquid. “I got Sirius killed that way, rushing in without thinking, I thought I’d cured myself of that kind of selfish recklessness, but obviously I haven’t…”  
  
  
  
“I believe I can stabalise your child, if this potion works quickly enough, it should be fine,” Snape assured him in that same careful monotone. Harry worried the inside of his lip.  
  
“I…I really…really don’t want it to die, Sir,” he murmured quietly.  
  
  
  
“I'll do what I can,” He said plainly and for numerous reasons, Harry knew that Snape didn’t want it to die either. “In the meantime,” Snape continued, “It might be a good idea for you to send Eric to Draco, just to inform him of what has happend here.”  
  
  
  
Eric interupted then.  
  
  
  
“But Severus Snape, Sir, Master Draco knows not what you did for him and Harry, for them to get the baby Malfoy. What shall Eric say drove Master Harry Malfoy from the house, Sir?” Snape looked at Harry then, wondering if it would be best Draco _didn't know_ that this whole thing had been a set up and was down to Snape and Narcissa. He looked on the elf then, his unsure eyes lingering on him. Even when Snape interrupted his reverie.  
  
  
  
“Of course, I think Draco would be better off not knowing we did this to save him. I believe that the knowledge that the chance to live with the person he loves was… _arranged_ will only distress him. However, I need to know what you intend to say to him.” He looked at Harry then.  
  
  
  
Harry hadn't liked being kept in the dark. But would this whole situation turn for the very worst if Draco knew the way the contract had been concocted.  
  
  
  
Harry worried his lip, he hated lying, but deep down, did it really matter? He had been furious when he had found out, but Draco _wanted_ this marriage, wanted this child, had always done, right from the start, so why would it matter to him, where it had stemmed from?  
  
  
  
“Go fetch him,” Harry murmured, trying to disguise the need in his voice. He wanted him here. “Tell him I went to see Severus to talk, talk about things that matter but that I…that I got hurt. It’s not a lie, just bring him here, please?” A familiar ‘pop’ and the elf was gone before he could finish his nod.  
  
  
  
  
  
“Master Draco Malfoy, Sir! Slow down!” Eric insisted, but the blond brushed passed him, nearly knocking him over as he rushed through the lounge where they had arrived. With his breathing laboured, he pushed open the bedroom door. Harry was propped up against the pillows, perfectly upright except for his head tipping back into the headboard and his eyes shut. He looked…  
  
  
  
Draco felt as if someone had reached into his body and wrapped their coarse, meaty fists around his insides, twisting them until they felt fit to burst and bleed. Snape was bent over Harry, a labyrinth of empty potion vials strewn across the bottom of the bed, whilst the professor’s wand seemed to be tracing intricate lines on Harry’s stomach, as thin as veins except glowing and golden. They looked like a glowing, skeletal structure of a leaf.  
  
  
  
“Be calm and still,” Snape said, his deep voice carrying a note of warning, but he did not once stall or look up from his task. Draco swallowed. Approaching the bed, he swept his travelling cloak off of his shoulders, letting it pool on the floor carelessly. He had never seen Harry so still. He reached forwards, his fingers, cold from travelling brushed along the pale shape of Harry’s cheeks. Harry’s brow crinkled.  
  
  
  
“Your hands are cold,” Harry griped, his lashes fluttering and his eyes opening, although they were filled with a dazed dizziness. “Hit my head – but Snape’s taking care of the baby first. Sure enough there was a subtle hum of a stasis spell from Harry’s head – stalling the bleeding, but then Harry reached up, clasping Draco’s wrist tightly. “I didn’t mean to get it hurt! I really didn’t! Stupid…so stupid…”  
  
  
  
“Lie still,” Snape warned again and Harry glanced down at him, falling perfectly still once more, even trying not to breathe too erratically it seemed, but he never tore his eyes from Draco’s face.  
  
  
  
“Glad you’re here,” Harry murmured, still dazed and incoherent from a mixture of potions and his knock on the head.  
  
  
  
“What the bloody hell happened?” Draco demanded, yanking his hand back. “Can't I even go to work without worrying that something is going to happen, knowing…I…” Draco stopped there, he felt extremely angry. His eyes tore from Harry then and landed on the professor. “Well?” He asked of him, but Snape continued to tend to Harry and Harry remained still, most quiet. So Draco turned to Eric.  
  
  
  
“Eric, what happened?” The elf stood stiff and uncertain. Draco growled in frustration. “I comand you to tell me at once what happend here!” Draco’s eyes grew narrow and dark. The elf shuddered, he had no choice. He could not lie. Snape glanced up at Harry then, two sets of concerned eyes locking together.  
  
  
  
“Master Harry Malfoy went to find professor Snape, Sir, and they were ambushed by bad wizards, Sir,” Eric answered honestly, clambering up on the bed to pat Harry’s hand as if that would cure all of his hurt.  
  
  
  
“It was not his fault, Draco,” Snape murmured, giving Harry’s stomach a final tap before sitting back, drawing Harry’s nightshirt respectfully back over him. “I told him to stay back and he tried but there was no avoiding the spell. He hit his head and was dropped from a height. There was nothing he could do – if anything I should have acted quicker to help him.” Snape wiped his brow, flicking his wand to banish the empty potion bottles and getting to his feet.  
  
  
  
“Your son or daughter is very lucky that Harry is so resilient, they must get it from him. I managed to get there in time, the heartbeat was still there,” Harry made to sit up a little more, expectant of the answer but both Draco and Eric’s hand on his shoulders kept him still.  
  
  
  
“It’s okay then?” Harry demanded, startling Draco by asking before he had the opportunity to. Snape gave the tiniest of nods.  
  
  
  
“Bedrest, and I mean it, Pott– _Harry_ , you have to be more careful, if you were a few months further along, or if we had taken a few moments longer…”  
  
“I know, _don’t_ ,” Harry insisted, “I will rest. No more…no more stunts like today, I swear.”  
  
  
  
Snape, obviously convinced, handed Draco the last remaining vials. “Three left, two drops in every nutrition potion for the next two weeks will give him a little more… _resilience_ to bumps and scrapes while his body heals. He will not feel any hurt, other than his head. This is for the child’s _area_.”  
  
“Can you fix my head now?” Harry groaned, “I can still hear whistling.” He turned his gaze to Draco, still dazed, but his green eyes glistening meaningfully as Snape moved to tend to his head.  
  
  
  
“Where’s my ice-cream?” Harry murmured, trying to lighten the mood, to get Draco to say… _anything._  
  
  
  
It had the opposite effect to lightening the mood.  
  
  
  
“Well being called back in such a rush, I wasn't able to get your bloody ice-cream!” Draco screeched. “I'll go back out and get it later if it's really the top of your agenda. Look, that isn’t the issue. Why were you going to see Severus, Harry?” Draco stressed. Something felt wrong here. “What was that important that you went storming off on your own? And _why_ were you attacked? For what reason?”  
  
  
  
The questions continued. Draco couldn't understand what had happened here, could not piece this puzzle together. He wanted answers. “Well? Answer me!”  
  
  
  
Harry bit his lip. He didn’t want to fight, he was tired. But he supposed Draco had every reason to be angry. “I was joking about the ice-cream, you prat. And I don’t know why I went… It doesn’t matter anymore, I was suddenly so angry and…I needed to see him, needed reassurance…”  
  
  
  
Why was he bothering to be patient? Why was he bothering to answer Draco while he was shouting, when before he probably would have simply provoked him more? _Because it’s different now,_ his mind reasoned and he glanced at Snape. “And the men that attacked us said that they came to collect me as a _package,_ Snape recognised them as men who work for…for… _Lucius_ …” It was as if calling him by his name as opposed to ‘your father’ would make it easier, but Draco had gone deathly pale.  
  
  
  
“I would have been alright but I forgot my wand in the rush, and Snape couldn’t protect me and fight them at the same time…” His voice trailed off and he felt the self-loathing that had been banished in the last few weeks bubble to the surface. Why hadn’t he stopped and realised, for one moment, what damage he was doing? He had been safe in his little home too long, watched like a hawk and he’d got sloppy, forgetting what danger was waiting for him…  
  
  
  
 _Stupid, idiot,_ he reprimanded, wincing as Snape’s words from earlier struck him like a slap in the face, a sting of his head being healed making him hiss lowly. _‘If you were a few months further along, or if we had taken a few moments longer…’  
  
_  
  
“I’m such a shit father – mother, whatever the _bloody hell_ I am,” Harry growled under his breath, to no one in particular, “I’ve already messed everything up and I haven’t even felt it _move_ yet…!” Snape retreated from his now healed head and he leant back against the headboard again, exhausted among other things…  
  
  
  
“You have every right to be angry with me,” Harry said to Draco, without looking at him. “I really didn’t want it to get hurt…I don’t know why I even went, it doesn’t matter at all, it doesn’t change what is, or what I feel… If something worse had happened…”  
  
  
  
Draco hissed at him. He didn't like this self loathing part of Harry that he noticed was appearing more and more often. Having thought he knew Harry quite well now, it felt odd to hear him ripping into himself. And quite frustrating.   
  
  
  
“I wasn't shouting at you for being careless you bloody fool! I was shouting because no one was bothering to tell me what happend!” Draco marching quickly over into the bathroom, a flare of anger burning through his veins as he went inside and slammed the door behind him. From outside Harry and Snape heard a sudden angry groan and a furious smash.   
  
  
  
Draco’s hands swiped across the marble sink, knocking the china duck which held soap to the floor, satisfied when it shattered on the floor. He couldn't control it. His anger was out of control. He had thought the worst when he’d come in the room and seen Harry lying there. He’d thought he’d lost them both and they weren’t even going to tell him why?  
  
  
  
  
  
Harry remained still and frightened on the bed while Snape worried at the sound, both of them were stunned. Draco had been improving so much, and now...  
  
  
  
Though he had walked away with his anger, which was somthing.   
  
  
  
Harry winced at the twinge of pain in his stomach as he pushed his legs over the side of the bed, getting slowly to his feet.  
  
  
  
“Sit back down!” Snape hissed but Harry shoved his hand away, stumbling over to the bathroom door. “Don’t be bloody stupid, Potter – _Harry_! For goodness sake you need to rest! And he’s stark raving mad!”  
  
“He won’t hurt me,” Harry insisted, shoving the bathroom door open and closing it quietly behind him as he stepped in. It felt weird to walk with part of his lower body still partially numb and the rest of it aching, but he saw Draco hunched over the sinks, just like in 6th year and it startled him so that he froze by the door.  
  
  
  
“Get the hell out, Harry!” Draco snarled as he looked up at him in the mirror. Harry frowned, moving over to the sinks and leaning against the counter, supporting himself a little more.  
  
“I can’t help ripping myself to pieces when I do something stupid, it’s who I am, always have been – ever since Sirius…” He cut himself off then, growling through his teeth at himself. Why could he never say the right thing when it counted? “But I pissed you off anyway, right? So tell me how to fix it?”  
  
  
  
Snape sat awkwardly outside, wondering whether to interfere or not. He had only wanted to save Draco, but this didn't seem to be working, did it? He snarled realising for the first time, that Potter might have been right, should they have ever meddled in the first place?  
  
  
  
Draco looked at him then, giving him a dark, menacing glare from behind that curtain of blond hair. “Get out!” He growled, his voice deep and foreboding. “Just get back to bloody bed, you idiot!” Draco spat, reaching quickly inside the cubboard for his hidden packet of cigarettes, reserved for emergencies…  
  
  
  
Harry’s frown intensified at the sight of the cigarettes. Draco hadn’t smoked since he found out about the baby, it was a shock to see him falling back into the habit. He thought they were all gone? “I’ll tell you, alright? I’ll bloody tell you why I went to see Snape! I spoke to Eric this morning and he told me things, a lot of things about you.” He wasn’t expecting Draco to whirl around to face him like that at the statement, those eyes wide with horror. Harry jumped back in surprise, but pressed on, at least Draco wasn’t screaming at the moment – he was listening.  
  
  
  
“He told me that Snape and your mother made the contract! They made it up so that you and I would be brought together! So that I would have to marry you – but they did it _for you_! They gave you me, so that you would have something again, so that I would give you something to fight your father for. Something to stop you from killing yourself slowly with your secret misery! And Snape, he slipped me a potion, that’s what allowed me to get pregnant – I found out today and lost it, alright?”  
  
  
  
Draco was frozen, the lighter poised and open in his hand, flame flickering uselessly since he had dropped the cigarette as soon as Harry’s explanation had begun. Harry winced at the memory of his foolishness. “But…it doesn’t matter. I realised that – I realised that we’re still here. We were forced into it anyway so it hardly matters who by. Eric said that by signing the contract we made it real in any case.”  
  
  
  
Draco still wasn’t moving, not even blinking and Harry searched his wide eyes, stepping closer. “Knowing didn’t change anything, not really. And the…the baby wouldn’t exist if it hadn’t happened.” He frowned then, reaching for the open lighter, the naked flame starting to scare him. Just at that moment, however, Draco jerked back and Harry’s hand caught the white-hot flame, his skin blistering, searing as it met the fire.  
  
  
  
“SHIT!” Harry cried out, tears springing to his eyes as he fell back, slamming into the shower wall and clutching his wrist, his palm smoking.   
  
  
  
The lighter fell from Draco’s hand then as Harry rushed his own hand under the tap. Still unmoved he stared blankly at Harry, he wasn't able to register everything that was happerning to him, it all seemed so surreal. He watched, still frozen as Harry tended to his hand, rubbing a towl over the wound to stop it from hurting. The blond's eyes flickered then.  
  
  
  
Suddenly he rammed the door back open and pelted towards Snape, his eyes glassy and stinging. “This was all a set up?! A bloody setup?!” He cried. Snape stumbled backwards, Draco’s fists collided with his chest roughly, slamming into the wall. Harry rushed out worried, lost for what to do to make him stop.  
  
  
  
“You fucking _bastard_! And my own _mother_ too! Did you ever think about Harry at all? Or me? You're both sick!”  
  
  
  
Snape inhaled heavily. “You were in a place no one could reach, _you still are_ , but since Harry has been here, you have…”  
  
  
  
“I've what?! _Changed_?! I may have some messed up ideas on how to treat a person, but im aware of that, I don't need some saviour to tell me that or to suffer me! I may be fucked, but this is just… I really hurt him! You _knew_ he would!” His fists tightened then.  
  
  
  
“You're the one with this _obsession_ , Draco. Your life had turned into nothing and your only pleasant thoughts were about him. We did it for you!” Snape snapped, pointing at Harry when Draco’s eyes flared with fury.  
  
  
  
“That’s none of your bloody concern! How dare you take our lives into your hands?! I _love_ him for _fuck_ sake! Why would I want him to go through the hell of living here with me when I know he doesn't _want_ that? Doesn’t want _me_? Why are you treating me like I'm an idiot?!”  
  
  
  
Harry’s eyes widened at that sudden announcment.  Snape realised then, just how much Draco had changed. This was beyond just being nice, just taking care of his pregnant husband. This was selflessness and it sounded foreign on Draco’s tongue. He would rather he’d never had Harry, if that would make him happier?  
  
  
  
“But you would have remained in that place, Draco,” Snaped tried. “To your mother’s credit, it was my idea, she merely agreed and helped set it in motion. She knew how you felt for him, more than anyone, she just wanted to see you happy, the way we _both_ knew you would never be without help. Taking it into my hands may have been wrong… But can you deny that the recent months have been better? Can you honestly wish we had not done it?”  
  
  
  
He watched Draco’s face, still blazing with fury and he knew Draco could not honestly say he wished they hadn’t done it. How could any man wish he had never touched or had the person they loved most? Never had the opportunity for their child to be conceived? However confusing and chaotic and _wrong_ the means were.  
  
  
  
Harry curled his knees up to his chest, watching the exchange through the open door and pulling his blistering hand to his chest. His wand hand to make things worse, so he couldn’t heal it himself,and it looked too bad for a quick _Episkey_ anyway. They were talking, shouting, as if he were not there and his eyes widened, his breath whisking from his lungs at Draco’s words. He’d heard Draco call it an obsession, but never love. Despite having suspected beforehand, hearing it aloud from Draco’s lips…  
  
  
  
He didn’t know whether he could be this shocked to silence and this desperate to cry in pain at the same time, but he was certainly trying.  
  
  
  
“Like that makes a difference! You all snuck around behind my back! I'll never forgive you for this! No matter what good has come from it,” Draco warned him. It was true, the last few months with Harry had been…something else. He didn't deny that, but knowing it was all a set up was just…it felt worse than the marriage feeling fake, _forced_ to begin with. As if Harry were his pity prize? He released Snape then, asking him to leave quietly.  
  
  
  
Snape shuffled from the wall and went to Harry first. “Make sure you take care, Harry,” He murmured, before leaving departing them via the floo.   
  
  
  
Draco walked to Harry then. He felt uneasy, facing him immediately after his outbursts, but what choice did he have? He had to stop running away from this. From his mistakes and difficulties, no matter what. Slowly he took Harry’s wounded hand and pulled his wand from his jacket.   
  
  
  
“ _Episkey_!” He chanted, before gathering himself to his feet with a slow sigh. “My father knows no limits,” he hissed through his teeth, giving a worried glance to Harry’s belly before helping him over to the bed. “Rest, Harry,” he murmured, avoiding those dazzling green eyes.   
  
  
  
Harry winced, the spell would work, it seemed (it felt worse than it looked) and the blistering had faded but the pain still remained, would do for a little while, no doubt. Sliding under the sheets, he pulled them up around him to keep away the chill that wanted to reduce him to shudders again. Draco stood beside the bed, watching him, as if not knowing where to move next.  
  
  
  
“How can I rest until you do as well?” Harry said simply, for some reason certain that if Draco would return to the way he looked this morning, so content with everything, that it would be alright. “Are you alright?” He breathed softly, anxiously.   
  
  
  
“Hmm,” Draco tried to make that sound positive, but failed miserably and his only response to Harry’s request was to take a seat at the end of the bed. “I really am sorry, for this – _this situation_. But it won't be long before the baby comes…”   
  
  
  
Harry could imagine how betrayed he must feel, his own family going behind his back, despite their intentions. It was understandable, But he wished Draco would stop, stop mentioning the day Harry would have to leave, and the inevitable changes after the baby arrived.  
  
  
  
“I don't think… N-No matter how much I _obsessed_ over you growing up, that I’d ever want you here without you wanting to be here. That’s why I – I can't wait for you to leave, in a way.” He looked at his dark-haired his grey eyes glassy as he held back the tears so desperately trying to form within them. Though Draco had meant that differently to how it had came out. Harry didn't seem to understand…   
  
  
  
“After this is all done, you can have your life back, I'll make _bloody sure_.”  
  
  
  
Harry’s mouth found itself in silent motion again and he blinked back traitorous tears. Plucking his glasses off his nose, he set them on the sidetable, trying to regain control over these wayward, hormone-intesified emotions without having to see Draco’s face. He pressed his face into his hands, breathing carefully. “I…I didn’t realise you were in such a…a firm mind about me leaving here,” Harry whispered, not seeing Draco’s frown in confusion. _So that’s it then?_ Harry thought, _He doesn’t want me to stay anyway, even if I_ wanted _to?_  
  
  
  
Where had the hazy, distant cloud of bliss from this morning been blown to?  
  
  
  
 _I don’t want my life back,_ Harry thought wretchedly. _Snape was right, I had no life! I can’t go back to how it was before…_  
  
  
  
“I…can you stay here with me?” He asked, wincing at how it sounded in his husky voice. “That is if…you’re not busy? I s’pose you need to get back to work…” He trailed off uselessly. Perhaps he should give up on speech for all the good it did?  
  
  
  
Draco frowned. Harry did _want_ to leave didn't he?  
  
  
  
Draco’s confusion eased slowly, the thought seeming too ridiculous to merit any wonder. “Well considering there aren’t many hours left in the work day so there wouldn't be much point. However, if you still want your ice-cream, I should go fetch it soon?” He watched Harry flush, that had seemed a silly request from this morning.   
  
  
  
“Although, now I come to think of it, I think we might actually have some,” Draco started. He always seemed to try and hide the negative confrontations with tender little platitudes – which almost worked to make Harry forget the anxiety from before. “Not sure if it was vanillia though,” Draco continued, “If I remember correctly it was _strawberry_ …”  
  
  
  
Harry raised his eyes to him in confusion, his overworked mind taking a moment to recall just what Draco was talking about. He considered his expression then, thinking that Draco seemed a little… _awkward_ , and Harry began unwittingly plucking at the tassle on the pillow he had pulled into his lap for some sort of comfort. “I…I like strawberry,” Harry said lamely, joining Draco in awkwardness. His cravings flared at the mention of it.   
  
  
  
“You don’t – I was only joking, you know,” Harry tried, feeling a bit embarrassed about asking for it in the first place and so too about using it as a way of trying to lighten the mood earlier. “I – you don’t have to wait on me.” _I’d rather you were in bed with me_ , he thought, trying to quash the despair at Draco’s words concerning his departure. They should not have hurt as much as they did, he should not be so desperate to hear the request to stay.  
  
  
  
He wasn’t so sure how he felt about his life right now, but the thought of leaving his son or daughter here, of leaving Draco altogether seemed…  
  
  
  
“You're more important than work. The baby too. But if I can go in to work, I should. Please don't call me back unnecessarily,” Draco said softly. Harry knowing he would run back whenever called could be a dangerous weapon, after all. “I know that you needed me this time, but if it's something you can handle, please deal don’t disturb me. I'm already very behind…”   
  
  
  
Harry smiled sadly when Draco moved closer.   
  
  
  
“And I’m sorry that I lost it, I just… I…”  
  
  
  
But Harry just gave him a knowing _‘don’t worry’_ look before Draco could finish and the blond found himself smiling. Getting to his feet carefully, he made way to the bathroom and closed the door. “I'll clean this room later,” he said sheepishly, spinning to face Harry again, his hair still laying over his shoulders like in Harry’s now distant dream this morning. “Ice-cream, then?”  
  
  
  
Harry controlled the urge to reach forward and touch him, hold him to his body and merely nodded. “I…that’d be nice,” he murmured, although he felt a little sick now…  
  
  
  
Draco reached over to the empty breakfast tray that lay on the side, tapping it with his wand a few times. A small _‘pop’_ and a round tub of strawberry ice-cream appeared on the tray. Harry sat up a little straighter (not wanting to feel like an invalid) as Draco removed the breakfast tray, keeping the ice-cream in his hand.   
  
  
  
“Here.” He handed the icecream to Harry. As Harry reached for the bowl, however, Draco’s eyes narrowed, Harry’s fingertips brushing his. But as he went to pull away, Harry found his wrist being held back and watched Draco leaning in close to him.   
  
  
  
“Don't forget this,” Draco said, raising a spoon, mere milimetres from Harry’s lips. Harry seemed to swallow hard when Draco pulled back and gasp when that grasp around his wrist slipped away, along with his husband.  
  
  
  
Draco stripped off his work attire, tossing it over the nearby chair, kicking off his shoes and loosening his tie. Harry wasn't sure whether to look at the ice-cream or the half-naked man before him. Draco pulled out a cooler set of clothing then, turning to Harry as he went to pull the shirt on.  
  
  
  
Harry turned his gaze back to his bowl, diving in with the spoon. “You know, I think only pregnancy can make you want ice-cream in November,” he murmured casually, “It was freezing earlier, no wonder babies need parents, they don’t know what’s good for them… I’m quite warm now though…” He dipped his spoon in, swirling the harder layer until it slid away nicely onto the metal, bringing it to his mouth. He looked up, just as it touched his lips, a small sound of contentment leaving his lips as the sweet coolness found his tongue, only to find Draco watching him out of the corner of his eye. He flushed at the expression that must have been on his face.  
  
  
  
“Good ice-cream,” he tried, hiding his blush with another mouthful. He heard Draco draw closer. He’d been craving his closer proximity like he’d been craving the ice-cream and his tongue swiped at the next spoonful, as if to draw Draco further in with it.   
  
  
  
Draco’s hand frooze on the second button of his fresh shirt, then he brushed his hand through his hair, approaching the bed. “Y-You have ice-cream on your nose,” he said plainly. Harry was blushing madly. Draco leant in and Harry _just knew_ what he was about to do.  
  
  
  
His hand gripped Harry’s wrist, stopping the spoon from entering his mouth and redirecting it to his own. Draco licked over his lips and dived in to the place on Harry’s nose where the ice-cream had splashed, slowly and seductively licking it off.   
  
  
  
“Clean now,” he purred, returning Harry’s hand (along with the spoon).  
  
  
  
Harry felt his stomach jolt and he exhaled excitedly. “D-Do you…do you want some?” He asked, seeing Draco raise a brow at the question, as if deciphering whether it was an invitation or not. He felt like a completely different person suddenly, his desires and his world entirely different to the ones of his seventeen-year-old self. If someone had suggested he might one day share ice-cream with Malfoy – especially _this_ way, he would have laughed so hard his eyes watered. As it was, he felt his stomach knot with anticipation, his tongue darting out to sweep across his lips – Draco unwittingly mimicking the maneuver.   
  
  
  
Draco remained close, but did nothing to initiate touch and so Harry brought another mouthful to his lips. No sooner had he sucked the strawberry sweetness off the spoon, however, than he felt Draco snatch the spoon away, seizing his chin between his fingers, tugging Harry’s mouth open. Harry gasped, Draco’s lips sealing his before any of his mouthful could escape. He closed his eyes, basking in the closeness, in the sensations shaking his body and the tastes mingling with Draco’s saliva in his mouth.  
  
  
  
That tongue swept across his, stealing the strawberry cream and Harry groaned eagerly. Draco’s hold on his chin was firm, but the feeling of his mouth being raped for ice-cream made his mind spiral into delirium.  
  
  
  
As Draco’s sweet lips drew away, his eyes darkened with divine passion, gazing into Harry’s while his tongue rolled in his mouth, savouring the strawberry taste. “Hmm, that was my bit,” he breathed heatedly, making sure Harry watched his every move. Seizing the bowl from Harry’s hand, he scooted down.  
  
  
  
“Take your socks off,” he ordered. Harry looked bewilldered. But the tone of that voice was too irresistible, too husky and full of promise to defy and so slowly he reached down and pulled off his socks. Draco grinned as he reached in, taking the spoon and tilting it, dribbling the sweet sticky dessert onto his toes…  
  
  
  
“What’re you doing?” Harry asked huskily, his voice tinted with anticipation. His toes curled and his foot jerked up in reflex of the tickling sensation but Draco caught his ankle with his free hand, running the pad of his thumb up over Harry’s surprisingly smooth feet.   
  
“Don’t kick me,” Draco warned and Harry just nodded, hungry for whatever Draco deemed him worthy of. This intimacy, he craved it more than anything else.  
  
  
  
Harry reached for his glasses on the side table, sliding them back on his nose just in time to see Draco dribble more over his toes. They twitched and Harry squirmed, but he kept his feet still, his chest heaving as he watched Draco work his sweetest torture.  
  
  
  
Draco’s tongue slipped in between Harry’s toes slowly, lapping at every forbidden inch contour, the sticky sweet ice-cream still falling, dripping around those small, frantic digits. He felt Harry’s foot tense and flinch with pleasure under his lips. “Feel good?” He murmured. But Harry could feel that smirk against his toes already, Draco knew the answer before he had even spoken.  
  
  
  
Slowly, Draco took the toes into his mouth, sucking them and twirling his tongue around the tense limbs, before taking them in deep and suckling them. Harry’s body wriggled madly above and Draco could see clearly where his briefs tented. It looked as though he had already cum, by the wet patch of pre-emission.   
  
  
  
“F-Feels…feels _amazing_!” Harry gasped, turning his head to the side and pressing his cheek into the pillow hard, trying desperately to keep still. “I…I can’t believe you’re licking my feet,” he half sobbed in pleasure. Every inch of skin that devilish tongue teased was so sensitive and sending jolts of electrical pleasure up to his cock, which pressed ardently into his briefs, visible underneath the nightshirt the elf had rushed over his head.   
  
  
  
“Oh _God_ …” He breathed, feeling Draco’s whispering chuckle against his feet. That tongue flicked at the tip of one of the appendages, teeth grazing the pad gently and he couldn’t withhold a groan.  
  
  
  
“Rub yourself while I lick you,” Draco hissed. Smirking at Harry from below. He watched Harry’s hand rush into his briefs, fumbling inside. “Hmmm, that’s right, rub it.”  
  
  
  
Draco’s hot, breathy words brushed against the edges of that ice-cream coated flesh, watching them shudder before laving them with his tongue, making the digits dance with tickling little licks. “More?” He asked with feigned innocence, teasing.  
  
  
  
“Mmmhhh!” Harry whined huskily, writhing at the teasing tones and touches. _So dirty but so nice._ He struggled for coherency, sitting up a little to yank the nightshirt over his head, leaving him naked but for his briefs as he lay back, locking gazes with Draco and reaching for the tub of ice-cream and the spoon. “C-Come up here,” Harry panted, his eyes shining with desire as he held a spoonful aloft.  
  
  
  
Swatting Harry’s left hand away from the bulge in his underwear (seeing it struggle where his right had usually faired better) Draco massaged him in it’s place as he crawled up his body. Thinking Harry wanted him to lick it the dessert off the spoon, Draco made a beeline for it, coming to a halt when Harry let the substance slide off the metal and splash down over his stomach, just above his navel. Harry managed a tempting smirk, before dribbling another thick line of it along the path up to his chest, a path he waited for Draco to follow. Currently, the blond seemed a bit stunned at Harry’s actions.   
  
  
  
 But the grin on the blond's face widened. Eyes staring hungrily at that wriggling body and the pink, sticky sweetness sliding over it. Slowly, he rolled his tongue over his lips and leant down, his hair tickling Harry’s sides when his tongue darted into his belly button for the sweetness pooling there. Harry’s lower body arched up madly, his cock pressing hard into Draco’s stomach in reponse.   
  
  
  
“Hmmm…sweet!” He hissed lowly, circling his tongue over the sticky flesh.  
  
  
  
Harry’s unsteady breaths sent his chest into spasmss and he scooped up more dessert, drizzling it slowly over his chest this time, watching it pool in the dip of his breastbone and rippled outward to touch his nipples. He gasped, the icy treat making his nipples harden and he saw Draco’s eyes blazing at the sight of the sinful invitation.  
  
  
  
“Come on, Mr Malfoy, eat me all up,” he all-but purred, arousal suddenly flaring in his body, hungry for touch and intimacy. He brought the spoon to his lips then, licking it clean as Draco crawled further up him to the pool of ice-cream on his chest.  
  
  
  
 With that, Draco propped himself up off of Harry’s body, dipping his head to lap at his chest, scooping off the sweet strawberry substance already melting in the heat of their arousal. “Mr Malfoy, hm?” Draco purred, his eyes narrowing darkly in passion as he swept his tongue over Harry’s peirced nipple, plucking at the ring with his lips. “Hmm… Call me that again,” Draco teased with a grin, running his fingers feather-light over Harry’s hips. “Hmm, say you want me…?”  
  
  
  
Harry smiled dazedly, tilting Draco’s chin up with his thumb and swiping the back of the spoon over Draco’s nose, leaving a trail of strawberry cream there. “I want you,” Harry admitted huskily, wiping the remaining dessert off the spoon and onto his pierced bud again, shuddering at the coolness and arching up to try and coerce Draco’s mouth to it.   
  
  
  
“Mr Malfoy, I want you…” He tilted his head, flicking his tongue out to swipe the line of ice-cream off of Draco’s nose and into his mouth. “Hmm…” He groaned at the taste.  
  
  
  
Draco’s eyebrow edged up, the smirk wide across his lips as he dipped into Harry’s neck and breathed hotly there, his stickly lips pressing to the skin around his collarbone when he mumbled hotly, “You want me, hmm? You want me like you wanted your ice-cream? You want me to eat the ice-cream off your cock?” Draco breathed darkly, his tone filled with desire and passion.  
  
  
  
His hand shot down to Harry’s last remaining garment and struggled them off. Snatching the bowl up once more, he tipped it over the already erect organ, watching the cream dribble out of the bowl and drip sinfully onto that frantically jerking shaft. He watched Harry flinch at the coldness as it metled over his hot thickness. “Well?” Draco purred.  
  
  
  
“Ahhhh!” Harry cried out, his eyes shining with pleasurable tears, “N-No! S-So cold – nice… Oh _Merlin_ , I’m melting! Hnn…” He squirmed in the sheets, Draco’s hand laying on his hips to keep him still, that hot breath steaming over his ice-cream covered cock. He struggled for coherency, gazing down at where his sticky prick bobbed just under Draco’s chin. “Lick it all up…clean it for me,” Harry babbled fighting against Draco’s hold to try and smear himself across the blond’s lips.  
  
  
  
Above him, Draco chuckled darkly at his impatience and Harry let out a small frustrated whine. “Hmm…eat me up, tell me how I taste…?” He pleaded, mind dazed with pleasure.  
  
  
  
“Heh,” Draco groaned, circling the tip of his tongue over the leaking end. “Hmm, I need to get more of you before I can tell you how you taste.” Harry arched up then.  
  
  
  
“More...More! Harry groaned, his cock slapping into Draco’s teasing lips. Draco slowly, teasingly parted his lips and pressed them to the tip. He mouthed the cherried end before taking the head in fully, pushing back the foreskin over his pinkish pulsing prick.   
  
  
  
“Hmmm… S-So hard and sweet,” Draco hummed along it and he felt Harry arch deeper into his throat. Draco sucked it up and down, occasionally circling his mouth around the head a few times before wetly pulling away. “You taste _sticky_ , but so bloody sweet.”  
  
  
  
Smiling, then shuddering, Harry smoothed his better hand over Draco’s hair, caressing it affectionally before cupping the back of his neck, not to pull him back, just to feel him. His cock throbbed as if asking for his return and Harry was panting out into the room, waiting for his words to find him again. “Lay back,” he panted, shoving Draco to lay flat on the bed. Before Draco could speak, Harry caught his parted lips with his darting his tongue inside to taste him as deeply as he could. The taste of ice-cream lingering.  
  
  
  
“You taste eager,” Harry whispered, sliding down to rest between Draco’s legs. Holding that stormy gaze, he allowed his fingers to whisper over the bulge in Draco’s trousers. He teased him with barely there touches, before pressing his palm down hard into the throbbing heat, massaging him generously through his trousers. “You _feel_ eager…”  
  
  
  
“F-Fuck!” Draco groaned, throwing his head back into the sheets. Draco moved then, straddling Harry’s chest backwards so that that flushed prick bobbed under his chin. “P-Pull, my trousers down?!” Harry laid back, moving his hands up to the waistband of Draco’s trousers. He felt those lips again, leaning forward and suckling around the tip of his cock. “Don't stop, Harry,” Draco pleaded, when the feeling had distracted him from his job. Harry tugged again, reaching round the front for Draco’s belt and hurrying to undo it.  
  
  
  
“Now who is eager?” Draco chuckled, the steam from his breath dancing over the end of Harry’s hungry erection. Then, he took the full length in needily and swallowed him whole. His mouth melted around that organ and pulled hard on the foreskin. Harry stopped then and Draco gasped, “D-Don’t stop!”  
  
  
  
“Mmmnhh can’t…can’t concentrate!” he panted, feeling Draco’s impatient chuckle around his pulsing hardness. “Hmmnhhh! P-Please, deeper, suck me deeper!” Drool slid down his chin as he opened wide to accept Draco’s cock at the odd angle, the little thrusts driving the leaking shaft down into his throat, where he choked a little. He hummed intentionally, feeling Draco wriggle at the sensations and he steadied his breathing through his nose, before moving deeper.  
  
  
  
They hadn’t done this before, this mutual stimulation, and he found the feeling of Draco throbbing in his mouth only made his own cock harder, spitting pre-emission down Draco’s throat.   
  
  
  
Draco dribbled over his pink prick, mouthing the entire organ in measured, generous lengths. The pre-emission stained his lips and his own cock hardened in Harry’s mouth in reaction. He shuddered. “Hmm… Suck it… _right there_ , Harry!” Draco moaned, positioning himself just right, his foreskin caught on Harry’s teeth and he pushed back, his balls resting flush against Harry’s skin.  
  
  
  
“Fuck thats good!” Draco yelped, pressing firmer around Harry’s leeking prick. “I – You're so…! Hmmm…”  
  
  
  
Harry pressed down to the hilt, swallowing him enthusiastically until Draco groaned around his mouthful. Harry rolled his hips, grinding himself into Draco’s face, his tight hole twitching in want. He drew back gasping and spluttering over Draco’s hardness. “Hmm…put your…your fingers in my bum!” He panted, tugging Draco’s foreskin up over the purpling tip with his lips and grazing it with his teeth feather-light. “ _Please_ …”  
  
  
  
“Put my fingers where?” Draco asked again, making sure to taunt Harry as much as he could. He felt Harry stiffen below him as he gave a breathy _“please”_ and Draco grinned slyly, wetting his finger and brushing it over the skin. “Hmm, beg me. Tell me how much you deserve my fingers in your arse.”   
  
  
  
Harry wriggled then, almost madly. His cock aching with need and twitiching against Draco’s chin  
  
  
  
“I – I _need_ it, I _deserve_ it! Your fingers in my dirty little arse, _please_!” He groaned, his erection leaking with his words and he raised his neck, straining it willingly to wrap his lips around Draco’s balls, sucking one into his mouth and feeling the heat boiling within them. He felt Draco stiffen and Harry worked harder to please him, yearning for his fingers inside of him.  
  
  
  
“Yes, _Malfoy_ ,” Draco growled, “Tell me again – say it again with your prissy gay voice!”  
  
  
  
Harry flushed darkly, rubbing his face into Draco’s hot sac before craning his neck to slide his mouth up further. “M-My arse! Finger my arse, _please_!” Harry begged, his breath dancing over Draco’s twitching entrance, his tongue following suit to swipe teasingly over the tight little ring of muscles.  
  
  
  
“Nhgggh!” Draco hissed stuttering pleasure, feeling a wet pointed tongue against his tight entrance. “T-That’s f-fuck!” He pushed back into Harry’s mouth wantonly. _It felt amazing._ “Y-Yes, bloody hell, lick me there, deeper!” Draco panted, pressing his wet finger into Harry’s tight ring of muscle hard. The tight, wrinkled flesh clenched around him and Draco slid another damp finger inside, opening Harry up to slip his tongue in between them, tasting his strawberry goodness and his body musk at the same time. “Fuck, _lick my arse_?!” Draco groaned. He felt Harry’s hot breath dance over him then, almost felt a snigger against his cheeks. A snigger that suggested that he, Draco Malfoy…had finally fallen prey to Harry’s body and slipped into delirium. The state that suggested, however much he shouldn't be enjoying this, surrendering, he bloody well was!  
  
  
  
Harry reached his hands up, spreading Draco’s cheeks wide so that his tongue could better slide along the valley in between. Draco squirmed over his head and Harry smirked, circling the tight ring before flicking the twitching centre. Draco gasped, rubbing his lips along the thickness of Harry’s prick eagerly as he curled his fingers, caressing that familiar spot inside.   
  
  
  
“Hmmm…you do it so nice,” Harry breathed, inching one of his thumbs in to rub that tender ring along with his finger, slicking the digit before sliding it into the resisting passage. Harry wondered if he’d like it…he’d never touched him here before. He felt Draco’s tight channel tense around him, and Harry used his submerged thumb to pry his husband open, his tongue pressing deeper inside.   
  
  
  
Harry jerked into Draco’s mouth, losing himself in spiralling ecstasy. “Y-you’re so nice and pink in here,” Harry growled huskily, shoving his tongue deeper. For the first time he didn’t question why he was doing this, or make excuses for it, he just wanted to.  
  
  
  
Draco flushed at the words falling from Harry’s mouth. His entire body was repsonding in a way he didn't realise it could, (not while he bottomed anyway) everywhere tense and his cock pulsating eagerly in Harry’s other hand as he jerked him. Never neglecting any part of him.  
  
  
  
“ _Merlin_!” He gasped. Lost for words almost. He mimicked Harry’s movements, prising him apart and ducking his tongue deep inside, as far as he could go. Harry flinched at the sudden wetness, but backed into him quickly for more.  
  
  
  
“And you're so hot and steamy, my cant get enough!” Draco murmured between licks, stuggling to push his tongue deeper. “More!” He gasped, wriggling onto Harry’s tongue. “M-More… _fuck!_ ”  
  
  
  
Harry grinned dazedly, drawing his thumb out and slicking up his first two fingers and sliding the index finger inside, painfully slowly to hear Draco let out a long tortured groan. “Hmmm, you like that?” He asked, twisting it again, slowly and curling it to perform a beckoning motion in his husband’s hot insides. “Look at your tight little bum, it’s opening like a little mouth, asking for more…” Harry’s own cock jerked into Draco’s chin at the tormented sound that left Draco’s lips and he reached down with one hand fisting that neglected cock near his face generously.   
  
  
  
“Is that enough _‘more’, Sweetheart?_ ” Harry purred. What had come over him? He couldn’t believe he was saying these things…  
  
  
  
Draco inwardly scowled at that comment. _Sweetheart_?! But thought better than to reply verbally when he was being so pampered. Besides, Harry’s blooming confidence was… _pleasing_ to say the least.  
  
  
  
“No, I need more, more!” He pleaded, not sure what had come over him. Just being spoiled by anyone, let alone _Harry_ was sending his body into a frenzy. “Use your tongue, all over my cock, my hole, fuck me!” He groaned, feeling Harry push those delicious digits hard inside. Slowy, Harry leant forward and pinned Draco’s wrists high over his head, the blond growled at being dominated so brazenly, but didn't stuggle when Harry leant into his ear.   
  
  
  
“So…I can fuck you for a change?” Harry asked, but as Draco’s lips opened to reply, Harry dived in, seizing that tongue and circling it ravenously, snapping back with a thin drizzle of saliva joining them. Draco’s chest heaved breathlessly. He smirked.   
  
“Heh, if you think you can handle me?” Though he was patially joking and completey taken over by the sensations rushing through his body as he spoke. _He wasn't a bottom. Except when…_  
  
  
  
Harry’s finger slid inside his tight place again and he winced, his legs shot apart unconsiously asking for me when Harry probed that place. Merlin’s beard, this was degrading, but…  
  
  
  
“F-Fu…fuck me…”  
  
  
  
“Fuck you?” Harry asked in a light voice, scissoring his husband open. “You want me to open this prim little hole up with…with what exactly?” He teased, watching Draco squirm at his words, at his voice as if his voice were the thing Draco was concentrating on. “You look so gorgeous like this,” he revealed huskily, dipping down to lathe Draco’s flustered ear with his tongue again. “Tell me, _Draco_ –” He drew the blond’s name out sexily, “-Tell me what you want me to ream you with?”   
  
  
  
He pressed his forehead to Draco’s, their noses touching briefly and he closed his eyes, before dropping his mouth down – _just_ missing that mouth and making Draco cry out with frustration. Harry arched a brow, mouthing the line of Draco’s throat and then down, further, further to catch a tight, light-pink bud between his teeth, torturing Draco into answering. This felt so different, so _thrilling_ , having Draco lie down, let him take control completely. He’d never felt so strong and at the same time nervous in all his life.   
  
  
  
_Don’t go all virgin on me now, Potter,_ his mind spat, reminding him that he actually hadn’t lost this part of his virginity yet… _Oh Merlin, don’t let nerves fuck this up!_  
  
  
  
Draco wriggled at Harry’s touch, his golden-white hair spread out across the bed as he chuckled huskily. _I can’t believe I’m going to say this…_  
  
  
  
“Your stiff, fat prick. _Your cock._ Give me your cock! I want it, _now!_ ” He watched Harry’s emerald eyes widen, as those digits swept up over his, Draco’s pink, needy nipples, their cocks grinding together scrumptiously. “Fuck me, Harry _Malfoy_ , S-Show me how hot you can make me?” Right then, Draco spread his legs as wide as he could, grinning as his own hand gliding down his pale body, reaching for his lower regions. Harry’s eyes followed him.  
  
  
  
His head shot back into the pillow and he gasped when his hand caught his own leaking, pink organ. Harry seemed to be trasfixed on the image and for a moment, was lost in watching him.   
  
  
  
“Well go on then, I'm so ready, so hot, and twitching for you,” Draco breathed invitingly, clenching his stretched hole greedily.   
  
  
  
“Come here,” Harry whispered, leaning down to push Draco’s thighs back to his shoulders, eyes drifting from Draco’s face, right down the length of his tight, toned body to where the blond’s slender fingers were opening that pink, desperate entrance. “You want me in there, hmm?” Harry murmured, not waiting for an answer. He shifted forwards, snatching his wand off of the side-table and pressing the tip against Draco’s ring. “ _Delugero_!” He chanted brokenly, the luminous pink jelly bursting from his wand tip to coat Draco’s insides.   
  
  
  
He heard Draco hiss and smiled at the look on his face. “Yeah, you soak that up for me,” Harry smirked, leaning down to rub some over his own aching hardness, that seemed to twitch in eagerness as he saw Draco’s hole clench hungrily, a little lube squirting out and trickling down the blond’s crack. “That looks so nice in there…”  
  
  
  
Draco winced, the substance inside him squelching crudely, it was cold, but he was sure soon it would heat up. _He knew it would._ “H-Hurry up?!” Draco groaned, his fingers pulling his cheeks apart, tempting Harry into action with an unhindered view inside his hole, already wanting him, needing him, twitching in anticipation. “Please?”  
  
  
  
Draco’s cock felt tight and heavy where it rested on his belly, craving what was to come with his entire being. Tingles rushed over his erection, through his drenched walls, sending him into impatient spasms. He needed it now.   
  
  
  
“Fuck me!” He hissed, louder this time, his hands shooting to Harry’s arms and he tugged him in closer. “I said fuck me. _Fuck me!”_  
  
  
  
Harry smiled, steadying himself by planting his hands in the sheets either side of Draco, hovering over his body. “How can I refuse you?” Harry murmured, meshing their lips together as he reached for his cock, brushing the swollen tip over Draco’s taut entrance. Draco had rubbed his… _exciting_ sex life in Harry’s face enough at the beginning, and Harry couldn’t help but wonder just how many of those had managed to find themselves in this position, how many Draco allowed this priveldge, if any. And he was wriggling and moaning so beautifully…  
  
  
  
“When was the last time someone took you?” Harry asked softly, caressing Draco’s rim with his prick-head.  
  
  
  
Draco’s eyes shot open at Harry’s question, before slowly shutting again. He laughed awkwardly, to which Harry found strange but listened on.  
  
  
  
“Four years,” he said quietly, not even attempting to elaborate. So he had been a bottom before then, to Harry’s surprise. Draco leant up then, his eyes narrowing challengingly. “A-Are you going to fuck me or what? Don't you have the balls?” His lips curved into that same smug proud expression he wore too well, like his signature look, taunting Harry into dropping the subject. He felt Harry’s cock move then, the heat from the end pressing against his needy hole.   
  
  
  
“Merlin, Harry, put it in already!”  
  
  
  
“My pleasure,” Harry hummed, guiding his cock to that entrance and applying enough pressure for the head to pop through the twitching ring. “ _Oh my_ …!” His words cut off, it was too good. So hot and tight and clenching at him as if Draco was hungry for more – and he was. _There goes my other virginity then_ , he thought with a small laugh, releasing his cock and bringing it up to smooth the sweaty blond locks away from his husband’s forehead, kissing his lips dazedly as he slid deeper.  
  
  
  
“Y-You’re so perfect…you feel so…my cock is _melting_!” Harry babbled senselessly, moving in with slow, hungry gyrations, savouring the pleasure of sinking into Draco’s body, and watching the uninhibited expression take the blond’s face.  
  
  
  
“Ahggnn…!” Draco groaned. His nose was wrinkled and he was wearing a blush so dark Harry thought he might never pale again. “G-Good!” Draco hissed, that cock penertrating his tight place, opening him in a way he hadn’t been since…  
  
  
  
“F-Fuck. Stretch me, _take me_!” Draco moaned, his head lolling on his shoulders and pressing into the sheets. His hands shot to Harry’s waist, pulling him close. He felt their flesh tingle where they touched, every joining point _thrilling._  
  
  
  
Harry’s cock was moving inside him, even though it was slow, tentative, _tender_ unlike anything he'd felt. It still felt amazing, the movements were almost blissfully subtle, like a butterfly’s wing. And Harry was shuddering against him, he could feel that honey-hued skin pimpling on Harry’s legs as they pressed into the backs of his thighs. “D-Deeper…” Draco begged, struggling to rest up on his elbows so he could watch Harry move inside him.  
  
  
  
Harry smiled sincerely, broadly, like he swore he’d never done so before as he watched Draco shift to get a better view of their bodies meeting. He kept his eyes locked on Draco’s beautifully dishevelled and flustered face, placing both of his hands back on the sheets either side of Draco’s body to steady himself, before thrusting deeper, again, so slowly he swore his cock was _burning_ with the need to go deeper.  
  
  
  
“You’re so hot inside,” Harry gasped, leaning in to rest his head against Draco’s, his body shaky with the intensity of such wild, new sensations and he stilled for a moment, the pleasure too much. He felt Draco’s arm reach up to wrap around his neck, tugging almost tenderly, making Harry’s lower body follow the motion until their hips were pressed together, Harry completely inside him. “I – I can’t even… _Oh Merlin_ , I…I don’t want…I don’t want this to end…don’t want to – to _let you go_ …!   
  
  
  
“Then don't. Don't let me go,” Draco gasped louder into the hazy mist of pleasure, almost moaning every syllable. His eyes clenched shut. He had forgotten the slight sting at the beginning when you recieved, but it didn't linger long. When it started to fade he felt himself practically eating that cock, wanting more. Each time it pulled away, he found himself clenching, clinging to it, but then operning wider when it came back in. His hand swept over his own cock quickly, he started to tug leisurely, rolling the foreskin up and down over his blistering, purpled helment, leaking shamelessly over both their bellies. His eyes flared at the sight of Harry’s body so tightly pressed against his own, spoiling his own in a way it had never been. His entire body _glowed_ with an all to familiar passion.   
  
  
  
“Oh Merlin!” Draco winced, his blond locks gathering together with the sweat. Harry ran his finger over the snail trail of golden hairs below, tickling at that place slowly when he moved even deeper. “Faster, fuck me, like you mean it!” Draco insisted, leaning up and seizing Harry’s shoulders then, wanting to climb as close to him as he could.  
  
  
  
Harry groaned heavily at Draco’s… _everything_ , quickening his thrusts into that tight body. He couldn’t help but drop clumsy, tender kisses on Draco’s face as he pounded his clenching hole. “Hmm…I can’t – can’t go deep enough,” He groaned, wanting more, wanting further in. He couldn’t believe being the top would feel anywhere near this good…  
  
  
  
“Hmm…s-sit on me? Fuck yourself on my cock?” Harry panted, his body unable to take the strain and keep up with the pace he so wanted. He sat back, hissing in negation when he pulled out and dragging Draco up to kneel over his thighs. He paused, pressing his head to Draco’s collarbone, laying butterfly kisses over his chest as his hands ran down over the smooth plains of Draco’s back. “Perfect…you’re perfect…” _Why the hell have you wanted me for so long?_ His mind finished, suddenly bemused by the idea that someone like Draco could ever want him.   
  
  
  
But he had him – _for now at least,_ a more bitter corner of his mind added and he massaged the soft globes of his lover’s arse before spreading him, guiding him over his cock. “Fuck yourself on it – on my cock, _please_!”  
  
  
  
Draco’s heart thumped in his chest. It was literally hurting. He had waited so long for this, _for Harry._ And in a sudden blissful moment he wanted to remain in this place, with Harry inside himself.  
  
  
  
Draco worked himself on top of Harry, using his knees as leverage to rock back and forth. His husbands cock went even deeper at this angle and he groaned in heightened pleasure. Slowly he bounced up, then back down again along that cock. He winced, his hands tightening in the sheets when he moved back up and down for more. Always more. Never enough.  
  
  
  
“Hmm, fill my arse!” He pleaded huskily.   
  
  
  
Why had he been wasting Harry for so long? The person he had obsessed over every day since he was eleven years old. It seemed silly now that he had _abused_ him, abused this! He could have had _this_ from the beggining! He growled in the frustration at that thought, that reason, the one that had made things between him and Harry worse. That had never been his intention.  
  
  
  
His mind broke from his reverie when he realised that the time he had left to treasure him was limited. He and Harry wouldn't be doing this forever, but…if only this once, like this… He was content with that. He had found that…he could be happy with that…he hoped.   
  
  
  
“I-I need it. _Need you_ …in me… _more_!”  
  
  
  
“Yessss…” Harry hissed, “Ride my cock, grind your little arse into me…Oh… _want you_ …!” He wrapped his arms around Draco’s back and then his shoulders, holding him close and rocking him backwards and forwards into him. He felt Draco’s cock pressing into his swollen tummy, dripping over his skin. He swore his skin was _sizzling_ with the closeness. This was what he yearned for, craved more than any stupid ice-cream dessert. This closeness, intimacy – there was no replacing it, and had he been more selfish, more careless of Draco’s desire for him to leave in six months time, there would be no letting go, either…  
  
  
  
There would never be anything as perfect as this closeness, nothing that ever compared again.  
  
  
  
“Mine…” Harry panted incoherently, tracing the frantic pulse in Draco’s throat with his tongue, catching the flesh between his teeth and sucking, marking _his_ husband. “Y-You’re all mine,” he groaned greedily.  
  
  
  
“I-I'm losing m-my bloody mind!” Draco responded. Harry was moving faster now. His bum swallowed that rock hard cock easily, eagerly taking every inch it had to offer deep inside his ass.   
  
  
  
Pounding him, grinding along that beautiful shape, Harry cried out senselessly, the sound drowned out by Draco’s own words.  
  
  
  
“In me, Merlin, _Harry Potter_ is inside me!” Draco winced. That had been the first time he had used Harry’s birth name since there marriage. His blond strands fell forwards over his shoulder's as he rocked shamelessly, resting forwards on his arms to cant his hips faster. This placed his chest directly in front of Harry’s face, a rosy bud begging silently to be abused.  
  
  
  
Harry smirked devilishly at the unvoiced request, dropping his lazy kisses to capture that hard, pink bud in his mouth, smoothing his tongue over it and panting at the feel of the stiff peak flicking over it. “Hmmm,” he hummed around it, plucking it gently with his teeth, his hands falling to Draco’s hips to help him move faster. Sloshy, wet noises sounded as he helped Draco fuck him harder, his own cock swelling larger in that slick chute.   
  
  
  
“Hnn, close!” Harry gasped out, surprised that he had lasted this long for his _‘first time’_ and brought Draco closer so that their sweaty chests slid together, Draco’s cock caught between them. “S-Stroke it! Stroke your cock and bring yourself off with me inside you!” Harry groaned, every little sensation lighting a thousand fires in his every pore, until he though his skin might burst. “W-Want you…want to – to cum inside you…want to see your hole all stretched and gaping with my cum inside…!” Harry gasped out senselessly between the frantic, needy thrusts upwards into Draco’s tight, willing body.  
  
  
  
Draco’s hand immediately flew to his aching cock, pulling the skin back he began to rub. He felt close. Fit to burst. Everything was tense and hot, and he couldn't rest his head in one position for too long without snapping it back in release of his thrill. “Oh…I… _close_!” Draco moved himself harder over the the organ swelling inside him, thickening, _pulsing_ as he rode him.  
  
  
  
“Give it to me, g-give me your cum! Cum in me!” Draco panted, moving manically over him. “Bloody. Hell!” His hands flew down then, grabbing Harry’s head and pulling him in close to his chest. Those dark locks tickled his sweaty flesh, those breaths steamed over his skin. He needed to be close. His entire body was melting.  
  
  
  
“So – so gorgeous! You look amazing!” Harry gasped out, his balls tight and heavy and slapping against Draco’s arse as he fucked him hard, meeting his eager thrusts. Every muscle inside his body pulled taut as if they would snap. “C-Cumming! Cum with me! Draco…oh god! Cum with me!” His nails bit into Draco’s hips and he pulled him tight to his body, stilling Draco’s maddening jerks as he pounded him ruthlessly, never ceasing even as his cock exploded, spilling inside Draco’s arse.  
  
  
  
“That’s it! C-Cum! Cream yourself for me…Hnnn…Draco…!”  
  
   
  
Draco flushed. _What was he saying._ This felt so weird, the person he… Calling him _amazing_?! Draco shut his eyes and suddenly, everything went white. He felt his chest tighten as he moved more and more, building, rushing towards completion…  
  
  
  
A sudden white burst of liquid shot up between his and Harry’s bodies, all over Draco’s tight hand fist, staining them both. The sticky mess slid over Harry slowly, dripping from Draco’s belly before Draco fell forwards in a breathless state of shock. “I…I…”   
  
  
  
There were no words, nothing that could find him where he floated above it all. Above pain and heartache and anything besides the warmth of their joined bodies. He buried his head into Harry’s shouder, shifting himself off the bump so his weight wasn't on him completely. “I…I…”  
  
  
  
This was the first time they had had sex when nothing else mattered. Not even the baby. He felt like he had nearly lost Harry today somehow…  
  
  
  
Draco’s cock splurted a few more feeble squirts along Harry’s belly as he began to catch his breath.  
  
  
  
Harry rested his brow on Draco’s sweaty head, their chests heaving in unison, his arms still wrapped tightly around Draco’s body, as if he were afraid he might melt away in the aftermath. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled nicely as Draco caressed the nape, and Harry fought to find his senses again, before tipping his head back to smile up at Draco breathlessly.  
  
  
  
“T-That was probably the most amazing _‘first time’_ any bloke’s ever had,” Harry chuckled softly, swiping Draco’s blond locks back out of his face and tucking the golden curtains back behind his ears, only when he had cleared that face, he didn’t draw his hand back. His skin was already flushed pink from post-orgasmic bliss but he felt another blush brewing beneath the surface at the recollection of his dream that morning, and his new fetish for Draco’s hair. He ran his fingers through it again, smoothing it back from it’s sex-tousled disarray.  
  
  
  
Upon realising Draco was watching his face closely, Harry smiled, drawing Draco with him back to the sheets. Draco, however, promptly rolled off him to lay at his side. “Oh, yeah right,” Harry murmured sheepishly, remembering his condition for the first time since their _encounter_ had begun. “Thanks, I didn’t think.” What a feat that was, that he was so engrossed in Draco’s every strand of hair that he had forgotten all else, even his child’s existence in the need to have the intimate embrace that post-sex promised.  
  
  
  
Draco didn’t move, however, seemingly lost in watching his expression, searching it for something, or perhaps just studying him – engraining him to memory. Bemused at the fact that asking to be held was more embarrassing than some of the more debauched things he had panted in Draco’s ear that night, Harry steeled his nerve and turned slightly to press his head close to Draco’s, so that their noses were touching, but nothing else. That was as far as his Gryffindor courage carried him, despite his desire for more.  
  
  
  
Draco’s breath had finally returned to his chest. Nothing he had ever done had felt like that. And he never realised that receiving could be that wonderful. Draco dipped his face, pressing his lips into Harry’s. _What was happerning to him, to them? This was all so.._  
  
  
  
It was as though he had stepped into his dreans, it just wasn't real…  
  
  
  
“I…I don't think we should do that again,” Draco breathed when he pulled back from the kiss. Harry’s eyebrows arched with confusion. “It's making it harder for me to…” His voiced went into a mumble as he admitted, “To keep my hands off of you…”  
  
  
  
Harry chewed at the inside of his lip for a moment, and then – “Then don’t – don’t keep your hands off of me,” Harry murmured, leaning back in to close the gap that Draco had put between them. “I – I don’t recall my saying that I _wanted_ you to stop,” Harry tried, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. Since when had he started noticing Draco’s scent so much? He moved in closer. “I – I want…I need to be close to you…”  
  
  
  
“What? But…I _thought_ …?” Watching Harry’s lashes flutter he stopped his words, smiling.  
  
  
  
Closing his eyes, Draco moved his hand to Harry’s hip and he tugged him close. “Well, then while I _have you,_ you will be _mine_.” Draco’s nails clawed down the blades of Harry’s shoulders softly then, tickling him as he held him. He was once again lost for words, his naked body melding together with Harry’s. He wasn't sure what was happening here, or why, but he… He wanted it to stay this way as long as it could.   
  
  
  
  
  
_~To Be Continued..._


	15. The Illumiglass

[Fifteen]  
  
 **The Illumiglass**  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Harry frowned as he stepped out of the shower. Seizing a towel and patting himself dry, he found himself confused at the sight of the clothes Draco had left folded neatly on the side under an _Impervius_ charm. Once he was basically dry, he knotted the towel around his waist and plucked his glasses off the side, placing them on his nose to better see the garments. They were…well not quite formal but they were a bit more _proper_ than his everyday clothes. Semi-casual, he thought and he glanced in the mirror, seeing the expression of confusion there.   
  
  
  
Draco had gone into the office that morning (odd for a Sunday, but then, he did have to catch up on some work) but he had surprised him again by coming home early and stating that they had an engagement that afternoon. But he hadn’t told Harry at all what it was for. “He’s up to something,” Harry said to his reflection, pulling on his underwear and then the black trousers and pale-green shirt. He made a face at his hair, patting it down in determination for it to lie flat, but it seemed that it would always betray him.  
  
  
  
“And you can see the bump in this shirt,” Harry mumbled to himself, not sure whether he liked that or not. It was barely visible he supposed…  
  
  
  
Tucking his wand into his waistband, he opened the bathroom door, surprised to see Draco standing in front of the armoire, dressed even more spectacularly than usual, and seeming to be making particular fuss of how he fixed his hair. He watched the blond’s reflection flush at being caught in the act, however and Harry smiled anxiously as he closed the door behind himself. He had a sneaky suspicion that Draco made particular effort with his hair recently because of his admission of how much he liked it.  
  
  
  
Clearing his throat unnecessarily, (as if that would banish his embarrassment at such thoughts) Harry stepped closer to Draco’s side, holding his arms up. “So...do I match up to a Malfoy’s expectations?” Harry asked, really wondering if he would ever look… _right_ in these clothes, the way Draco just seemed to naturally. _Merlin, let this baby look like him_ , Harry thought distantly, smoothing his shirt down over the bump, as if that would make it less visible. It was getting more obvious by the day, although Healer O’Dempsy had assured him he wouldn’t get anywhere near as big as some women did.  
  
  
  
 _Male-born babies are small,_ she had assured him. Harry wrinkled his nose, looking back up to Draco, waiting for his approval (or rebuttal) at his appearance.  
  
  
  
“Not quite, but it will have to do,” Draco joked. Harry gave him a reproachful look at that. Draco turned to him and took hold of his tie, straightening it up as Harry had not done so and smiled. “There.” Harry looked down at his tie and flushed, while Draco turned to grab his wand and fix his cuffs. “Are you ready?” Draco asked then, finally settling with wearing his hair in a plait.  Harry nodded at him and the both of them moved into their living area and the fireplace.   
  
  
  
“Just where are we going exactly?” Harry asked with raised eyebrows. Draco ducked his head.   
  
“I-I have been fobidden to say…”  
  
Harry raised a brow. “You've been awfully sneaky the last few days,” he said, as they moved towards the floo, “You're up to something.”  
  
Harry saw Draco’s feigned ignorance, but also his anxiety flash across his face. Draco was anxious about something? Wherever were they going (and why, if it made Draco so uncomfortable)? Harry opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by a loud knock ringing through the room, their only warning before two figures stepped out of the emerald flames that roared in the hearth.  
  
  
  
“Ah, we hoped we'd catch you. You have been hard to get hold of the last few days, Draco,” Severus said as he followed Narcissa from the grate, his eyes looking Harry over, as if assessing his health after the last time they had seen each other. “I see you are well, Harry?”  
  
  
  
Harry nodded, casting his gaze awkwardly to Draco, who was not as forgiving in his nature, and had made a point of avoiding Narcissa and Snape since they'd found out their dealings in faking their marriage contract. And forcing the conception of their child…  
  
  
  
“Draco?” Narcissa all-but pleaded, reaching towards her only son, whom she'd treasured, even in his faults. Hurt burned in her bright eyes, making a sympathetic pain flash through Harry’s chest at the sight of her. She wanted Draco’s forgiveness – a place in his heart again.  
  
  
  
“What?” Draco demanded coldly, his eyes hollow and not really focussing on her. He noticed Harry’s gaze lingering on him, however. However, that didn't stir him. Narcissa removed her hand then, trying to smile genuinely, but Draco wasn't even acknowledging it. “We have to be somewhere, so make this quick.”  
  
  
  
Narcissa diverted her gaze humbly. “Draco, please I–”   
  
  
  
“You what?”  
  
  
  
“I did – we did what we did because we knew how happy you would be, if you had Harry. You deserve that happiness. You have suffered so greatly, and all to protect me from the Dark Lord and…” She stopped in her tracks, glancing at Harry carefully, before continuing, as if they all shared a dark secret he was not part of…  
  
  
  
“A mother does what she must to give her child the life he has always wanted. Harry was the only thing you ever desired so passionately. I knew when Severus came to me that this could…could _heal you,_ my darling boy. Do not exhile me from your life for loving you too much.”  
  
  
  
There was a deathly silence then and Snape stepped forward, laying a comforting hand on Narcissa's shoulder. “Draco, it was I who conjured the plan and she who agreed to aid me, only for love of you. Can you really disregard your own mother, deprive her of her only son for giving you what you always wanted?”  
  
  
  
Harry shifted uncomfortably, taking a seat in the nearby cosy chair to take the weight off his feet while Draco conjured an answer. It was odd, being talked about like that as if he weren't there. But this was for Draco to decide, it was more important that Draco forgive them than for Harry to do so…  
  
  
  
“Did you ever think about Harry? Did you think I would want a Harry who resented me?” Draco spat, causing Narcissa to glance at Harry again. She never thought he would resent Draco. _Did he resent him?_  
  
  
  
“You don't have a clue. You don't know what I want, because you never even asked me?! The both of you are just as much to blame in all of this. I don't even want to be in the same room as you right now. But again, you're disrespecting that and begging for my forgiveness anyway, just to make _you_ content.”  
  
  
  
Draco gave them both a deadly glare before biting down his lip. “Get out! Get out of my part of the manor. You're not supposed to be here without my permission in any case. I have rights to remove you if you don't leave.”  
  
  
  
“Draco,” Snape began, only to be shut down.   
  
  
  
“No. GET OUT!”  
  
  
  
Snape sighed, gesturing Narcissa towards the floo. “We men make many mistakes, Draco, especially those made for the right reasons. But I didn't gamble your future in this, I would have never even attempted to meddle in your life were I not certain that Potter would accept you.”  
  
  
  
“I _am_ sitting right here, you realise?” Harry murmured vacantly, not sure whether to be offended or not anymore. They had done it for Draco’s happiness, for his life, he couldn't fault them there. It was the fact that they had done it, rather than what they had done specifically.  
  
  
  
“Harry is a sweet boy, he'll love you like you love him in the end. How can he not now he's known you? Now that you're the father of his…” Narcissa's voice faded to nothing, and she offered her son a final, imploring gaze. “I only ever wanted your smile, the one that you've given the last few weeks…”  
  
  
  
Draco remained silent, a mixture of pride and stubborness preventing his speech. With his back to them he waited, hoping they would just leave. “I –Harry and I have somewhere we really need to be, this isn't a good time, _please_ ,” Draco asked. Harry stood then, rejoining him. Snape gestured Narcissa nearer and with a hopeless, fleeting smile she and him left.   
  
  
  
“Finally,” Draco murmured. But Harry was staring at the floor now, and Draco wasn't sure why. “Harry?”  
  
  
  
Harry’s head snapped up and he stumbled to his feet, unconsciously patting down his hair again in desperation for it to behave for once, so he could at least begin to compare…  
  
  
  
“Sorry, in my own world,” He said, moving over to Draco, studying his face carefully. “Are you…are you alright? I mean…your mother…?” But the slightest of shakes of Draco’s head told Harry that this wasn’t the time, that Draco didn’t want to discuss it now. _Whatever he wants us to do to must be really important to him if he’s getting so apprehensive about it, if he got us all dressed up…_  
  
  
  
But there was a flash of sadness in those stormy eyes and Harry studied his features for a moment longer, before leaning in and pressing a kiss to his lips. The chaste intimacy made Draco jump a little with surprise, Harry just smiled at him.  
  
  
  
His shocked expression merged to a small smile as he directed Harry to the fireplace. “Come on.” Together they stepped in, the green flames whisking them away to their destination  
  
  
  
  
  
Together, they stepped out slowly, into the Burrow’s kitchen. Though the Weasleys were nowehere to be seen immediately, the voices from beyond the half-open back stable door and the fleeting glances of red hair through the window told them where to go. Draco moved to the back door, tense and yet content at the same time. Yes, this would make Harry very happy.  
  
  
  
He turned then, seeing Harry frozen by the fireplace still, and gestured for him to catch up. Harry looked back at Draco, confused.  
  
  
  
“I…but I thought…you _hated_ the Weasleys?!” Harry whispered in disbelief, “You hate my friends you…” He heard the rambunctious Weasley family striding across the garden to meet them where they stood on the threshold of the back door, but Harry’s eyes remained fixed on Draco. _This_ was why Draco was so… _anxious_?   
  
  
  
_Because he’s doing this for…for me,_ Harry thought, his eyes so wide with silent surprise that they were beginning to sting. _He hates them, but he knows it will make me happy._  
  
  
  
“Harry, dear!” Was all the warning he got before he was crushed in Mrs Weasley’s motherly embrace, drawing back to turn his face this-way and that, as if deliberating whether or not he was healthy enough – despite having seen him around a week ago. Harry gently removed the hands cupping his cheeks, smiling sheepishly.   
  
  
  
“I’m fine, Mrs Weasley, Draco takes good care of me,” he admitted, figuring that his…his _husband_ deserved some credit if he was willing to put up with the people he loathed most just for him.   
  
“I’m sure he does, Dear,” Mrs Weasley beamed, looking over at Draco warmly. “It’s nice to see you too, Draco. Have you and Harry felt any movement yet?”  
  
But it was Harry who answered.  
  
“No,” he murmured, still a little concerned about that in all honesty, despite knowing it was normal. “Nothing yet.”  
  
“Oh, It’s perfectly normal, Dear, now come, see what your dashing young husband has brought you here for.”   
  
  
  
Harry glanced back at Draco, seeing a light flush dusting the man’s cheeks at being called _dashing_ by Mrs Weasley, who was ushering them further out into the back garden. There was some variation of the _Impervius_ charm placed around the little wilderness that was the garden, creating their own warm summer inside the lightly glowing bubble. Snow lay on the world outside and Harry’s jaw dropped in awe and he froze beside Draco. He was… _touched_ to the point of speechlessness. A lump rose in his throat and it made it hard to swallow, his throat dry at the sight of the insurmountably huge banner that hung across the back of the Weasleys’ house. _  
  
  
  
_

> CONGRATULATIONS!

_  
  
  
  
_He dimly recalled something similar being held for Hermione when she had been carrying Hugo, but it had been nothing as perfect at this. He felt a little choked, even now, by such gestures. Near-enough sixteen years with the Dursleys and their neglect had left him forever stunned when someone gave him something, he’d decided, stepping forwards, without really feeling his legs. There were a myriad of colours in the streamers hanging from above – hanging from nothing. Little lights, similar to fireflies hovered like hundreds of stars in the dying light, whereas magical lanterns of various soft colours had been conjured to offer them lighting on the darkening winter evening.  
  
  
  
Never had a musty, Novemeber evening been so warm and beautiful. “Y-You…you didn’t have to go to all of this effort for me,” Harry said, his voice coming out almost a whisper, he wanted to turn and see the expression on Draco’s face, but didn’t trust the one on his own enough right now.  
  
  
  
“Don't be silly Harry, you're one of my sons!” Mrs Weasley said beaming, her arm round him, bringing him further towards the rest of the family, where they were already serving drinks and chatting amongst each other. Draco moved behind him.   
  
  
  
“Harry!” Hermoine exclaimed, rushing to him and pulling him into a small hug. “So glad you came, I was starting to think maybe you might not. Of course, you didn't know, so that wouldn't have been your fault, but im so glad you're here.”  
  
  
  
Draco scowled at that comment, but remained calm and ignored her. He had never really liked that girl anyway. Draco smiled then, pulling Harry close by his waist.  
  
  
  
Hermione’s nose wrinkled, Ron, who came to her side frowned at the closeness between Harry and Draco. The muggleborn glanced then to Ginny and George. still chasing an energetic Hugo around the rose bush and sighed heavily. “We wanted to have pink or blue streamers, depending on if it was a boy or a girl – but you haven’t found out the gender yet, have you?” Hermione tried, Mrs Weasley hurrying over to the picnic table full of party food to no doubt fill a plate for Harry.  
  
  
  
“No,” Harry said, allowing Draco’s arm to snake around his hips, liking the soft, grazing touches of those fingertips on the side of his belly, for a moment forgetting where he was. “Umm…that’s in a few weeks time,” he tilted his head up to look at Draco, whose eyes were fixed on Hermione and Ron, as if daring them to make a scene. “We haven’t really talked about if we want to find out yet, have we?” He asked Draco, that blond head snapping to him so suddenly Harry wondered if he’d gotten whiplash. “It’d be nice not to call the baby ‘it’ though,” he mused, trying to involve Draco in the conversation. He didn’t want another outburst from Ron like last time, not in front of Draco and not when he wanted this surprise to remain a good one. Unspoiled.  
  
  
  
Draco nodded carefully. “No, we haven't spoken about it,” He said, this felt so awkward. Draco had never felt like this before. He didn't particularly care for it either. But it was just one evening. For Harry.  
  
  
  
“Maybe you should think about it,” Hermoine encouraged excitedly. “I couldn't wait to find out about Hugo,” She added. “Mothers need to prepare and nest, it’s so much easier once you know. And it’s such an exciting thing to discover too!”   
  
  
  
Draco gave a smile at that, re-entering the conversation. “Maybe more so, being a surprise. I'm not sure I want to know.”  
  
  
  
Harry offered Draco a small smile, wondering if it would be entirely appropriate if he slipped his hand into his, but the possibility of rejection kept his hand (which had inched toward Draco’s a little) from taking it.  
  
  
  
“Here you are, Harry, Dear,” Mrs Weasley chimed in, shoving a plate piled high with sandwhiches and various snacks into his arms.   
  
“Mrs Weasley, I can’t eat all that!” He claimed, all of them being steered towards the picnic table – which to Harry looked like a banquet!  
  
“Don’t be silly, dear, you have many pairs of eyes to make sure you do – you’re far too skinny, need some meat on you.”   
  
  
  
Besides him, Draco snorted, and Harry frowned at him. “I don’t want to hear agreement there,” Harry warned, watching Draco help himself to the nearest glass of firewhisky. Slowly, all of the party guests, Mr and Mrs Weasley, George, Hermione, Ron, Ginny and Hugo were gathered around the magically expanded table. The magic lanterns moved to make a circle above their heads, casting them all with the stunning, multihued light.  
  
  
  
“A toast!” Mr Weasley announced, raising his glass high. “To Harry!” Everyone mimicked the words, “ _To Harry_ ” and clinked their glasses together, before settling down and digging deep into their meal. Harry had never seen so much food for so few in his life.  
  
  
  
Draco glanced at Harry every so often, delighted in that content look on his husband’s face. The colour seemed to be returning to his cheeks at any rate. But he could not help but notice the glare the youngest Weasley girl was giving him from across the table. Ginny Weasley, she certainly didn’t like him a great deal. Nevertheless, Draco found himself caring less with every sip of firewhisky and every light, tentative brush Harry made against his leg with his hand, as if silently asking for his touch.   
  
  
  
Feeling a little more relaxed at this situation now, Draco slid his hand under the table to caress Harry’s leg. Harry jumped in reaction but not so much that it drew the Weasleys’ attention to him. He ran his fingers slowly across his leg, brushing over his thighs and edging towards that place between them. What was with him fondling his husband under tables?  
  
  
  
Draco smiled at him devilshly while Ron jumped to his feet. “Harry, can I…can I have a word?” Draco, Hermoine and Ginny glanced anxiously at him, whereas an oblivious Harry hopped to his feet. Only to have Draco leap up beside him.   
  
  
  
“ _Alone_ ,” Ron spat at Draco, who sneered in return.   
  
  
  
“I wasn't planning on joining you,” Draco said calmly, making his way to the other table to fill his glass up for a third time. He propped his back against the place he had collected his drink, not wanting to return to the table with everyone else just yet. His eyes shot to Ron and Harry. Though he couldn't hear the conversation, he could see them, and that in turn made him feel uneasy. He didn’t want the weasel to ruin this evening for Harry with his selfishness. And more than that, he hated how at ease Harry was with the close proximity between himself and Weasley…  
  
  
  
“What’s up, mate?” Harry asked casually, praying that Ron wasn’t planning on another round of insults. The evening had started so well and he was still torn between keeping that peace and telling Ron exactly what he thought of the way he tended to side against him whenever the unexpected happened.   
  
  
  
“Is this about me and Draco?” Harry asked, breaking the awkward silence between them, his eyes darting to his husband, seeing the blond looking this way as he sipped at his firewhisky, an odd look of suspicion crossing the man’s face. “Is it about the baby?” Harry tried then, glancing back to Ron, and so missing the obvious unease on Draco’s face when Harry’s hand moved to his stomach unconsciously. It was more visible than it had ever been in the shirt he wore, whilst it was still not obvious, it couldn’t be ignored once you _knew_ what it was, either.  
  
  
  
 _What’s wrong with Draco?_ Harry had to wonder, but his attention was drawn back to Ron when finally the red-head found his voice.  
  
  
  
“E-Even though we might not agree on things, you’re still my friend. And I want…want to…to apologise…”  
  
  
  
Harry was stunned. Ron _never_ admitted he was wrong, not really…  
  
  
  
“You're my best friend, Harry, I just… I only say these things because I know you deserve so much more than this, mate.” Ron gave him a hopeful smile then, one that pleaded forgiveness.  
  
  
  
A little way away, Draco tensed when he saw the red head move his hand to Harry’s face. His eyes burned with anger and frustration at the small, but intimate gesture. Why was he touching Harry like that?! It seemed _far_ more than friendly…  
  
  
  
“Thanks, mate, for looking out for me, but…I’m better than I’ve been in a long time, and Draco is a big part of that,” Harry said, “He’s making an effort, I need you to make the effort too.” He saw Ron considering this for a moment, before the red-head nodded half-heatedly. Harry drew his best friend into a hug, clapping him on the back thankfully. Maybe, just maybe he could have this night with the people he cared about, and not have it end in total chaos…  
  
  
  
Suddenly, a firm grip on his shoulder turned him out of Ron’s hug and whirled him on his feet to find Draco staring at him (and passing an oddly possessive glare over him). Why did Draco look jealous all of a sudden? “Finish your food so people can give you their gifts,” Draco stated, trying to keep the harshness from his voice. Harry’s eyes glistened with confusion, again. He’d forgotten that part of Hermione’s (and Hugo’s) gathering.   
  
  
  
“I get presents?” He asked, torn between excitement and awkwardness. Christmas was different, they all had a gifts then, and they’d all always sent him his birthday gifts. He wasn’t sure he was comfortable being the centre of attention. What if the Weasleys had spent _money_ on him? They were better off now thanks to his and Draco’s contract but still…  
  
  
  
Then it hit him. His eyes searched Draco’s curiously. What had _Draco_ deemed a suitable gift for him?  
  
  
  
Ron scowled at Draco then, making a small snigger only for the blond’s ears. Harry was distracted it seemed in any case, as he walked back to the table.   
  
  
  
“What were you saying to him?” Draco demanded of Ron, not really sure he would get an honest answer.   
  
  
  
“That’s nothing to do with you, is it, _Malfoy_?!”   
  
  
  
Draco lurched forwards, seizing Ron’s collar with a feral growl tearing at his lips.  
  
  
  
“Oh, that’s right, Malfoy, cause a scene! Spoil everything for Harry as always,” Ron snarled.  
  
  
  
Draco glanced around, noting that (thankfully) no one had seen the exchange and he released him swiftly, brushing his hands off on his trousers as if touching Weasley were like touching dirt. “Just back off,” Draco warned with a dark glare, which Ron returned, before removing himself from Draco’s presence.  
  
  
  
Another hour or so of light chatter (and another drink for Malfoy) they moved into the Weasley living-room, the light completely gone from the sky. The brilliance of the lanterns and the magical fireflies appeared above them again, the streamers replacing themselves on the ceiling as the group settled into the chairs around the warm fire.   
  
  
  
Harry made a point of choosing the squashy love-seat so that Draco could sit next to him, but no one else seemed to take notice of the fact as the blond settled beside him. Harry felt his insides jerk uneasily. He was the centre of attention again now, as everyone fumbled for their wrapped gifts.   
  
  
  
“Ours first!” Hermione chimed, bouncing Hugo on her knee as Ron dropped a heavy, rectangular parcel onto Harry’s lap. Harry swore that the red-head and Draco glared at each other briefly then, but it was gone before he could be sure. Tearing away the purple bows and ribbons (Hermione’s handywork) he, of course, found books.  
  
  
  
“Baby’s first storybooks!” Hermione squealed excitedly and Harry smiled at both her and Ron, the expression widening as he saw Draco rolling his eyes. There were a few he had a vague memory of a few titles, Grimm’s fairytales and Beatrix Potter, he’d heard Petunia reading them to Dudley when he was younger and had laid quietly in his cupboard to listen to the words. A lump rose in his throat then…  
  
  
  
He wouldn’t get to be the one to read these to the baby…  
  
  
  
“Thanks, they’re perfect,” Harry murmured, his eyes shining with a sheen of longing and he tried hard not to allow Draco to see it as he slid the books onto Draco’s lap. “What’s next?”  
  
“Here, Harry,” Mr Weasley said gently, evidently believing his choked voice was because of hormones (and perhaps it was, but that was not the soul reason). His makeshift father slid a soft, badly wrapped package into his hands and Harry knew instantly that Mr Weasley’s input had been the wrapping. He tore off the wrapping paper enthusiastiucally, anything to distract him from the pain in his chest and found a soft, pure-white knitted blanket.  
  
  
  
“A baby blanket,” he said softly, running his fingers over the impossibly soft material and the little green and red letters in the corner. _Baby Potter-Malfoy._ But it wouldn’t _be_ ‘Potter’ in any way shape or form, he’d sworn his rights away for freedom. _What’s the use in freedom if you spend it alone?_ He wondered, smiling despite everything and offering the first gift-givers a heartfelt hug. “Thanks, it’s really beautiful.” This however, he kept on his lap, allowing his fingers to pass over it ever-so-often. He had not noticed Draco watching his every move.  
  
  
  
“Here Harry!” George chimed in, moving over to place a box on his lap. “This is from me and Fred!” George said with a smile. “I know if he was here, he would have wanted to pick the perfect gift, just like I did!” A little nostalgic suddenly, Harry tore the paper from it, eyes widening at the gift inside.   
  
  
  
Draco watched him, rather amused. Though the whisky had made his head a bit fuzzy, he couldn’t help but grin at how excited Harry got over presents, especially ones that in the long run, weren't really for him.  
  
  
  
“It's a bonefied Weasley and Weasley jack-in-box. Just fitting for a sprog who’ll spend all their time in Weasley and Weasley, hmm? Thought the baby would love it!” George said, watching Harry smile at him. Along with the box, a baby’s toy broomstick lay beneath and Harry raised a brow.  
  
  
  
“It’s jinx-free, I promise! Wizard’s oath!” George chuckled and Harry forced his smile wider at that.  
  
  
  
“And this is from me,” Ginny interjected, placing her present on his lap gently. It was a smaller box this time, lighter as well. Harry carefully unwrapped it, pulling a small golden braclet from inside. It had a solid, flat section amongst the curved links, curly, fancy lettering engraved into it.   
  
_  
  
_

> Never stop believing in the future, Baby Potter.

_  
  
_  
  
Draco felt a little offended at that gesture. She hadn't included his name in that inscription, the inscription for _his_ child. But the whisky didn't allow him to overthink it for too long, and he swiftly brushed his hurt aside. He raised his arm then, knowing everyone was watching, and as if to spite them, he put it around his husband for all to see. They all thought he was just keeping Harry as some prize as it was anyway, but if they were blatantly going to provoke _him_ after he’d sucked up his pride to come here for Harry…  
  
  
  
He pulled Harry in, placing a kiss on his cheek tenderly. Hermione seemed to blush, along with Mrs Weasley, while everyone else felt looked quite awkward or confused. It certainly was odd, seeing Draco Malfoy perform open acts of tenderness. But it was even weirder seeing Harry look so… _so flustered_ by the attention.  
  
  
  
Harry could not help but lean in to the kiss on his cheek, his skin tingling a little where Draco’s fingers (of the arm around him)  caressed the side of his stomach almost posessively. Since when did he like being possessed by somebody? It was another intimacy though, he supposed, another sign that fed his hope that when it came to it, Draco wouldn't let him go...  
  
  
  
“It's lovely, I'm sure it will love it – you shouldn't have spent so much money though, Ginny,” Harry said, closing the little box and putting it aside with the books, his fingers still stroking the baby-soft blanket Mrs Weasley had made. That choked, suffocated feeling returned as the feeling of it registered in his head. Was this as close to touching his son or daughter he'd ever get? Would he even see him/her before he was given his 'freedom'?  
  
  
  
Suddenly, Mrs Weasley was up and offering them all tea and cake, making Harry jump with the sudden warmth of her voice cutting through his gloom. It had been such a nice night, if only he could be sure that…  
  
  
  
 _At least the baby will have things from us, it'll know that I loved it,_ he thought, standing and reluctantly withdrawing from Draco’s arms. “I-I'm just going to the loo,” he stated lamely, not making eye-contact with Draco as he made his way through the kitchen and up the winding stairs. It was hard on his easily fatigued body, but that was pushed from the forefront of his mind by…disappointment.   
  
  
  
He had been foolishly excited to see what Draco had gotten him (and the baby) but he hadn't gotten anything, evidently. Harry’s teeth bit into his lip as he pushed open the bathroom door. Setting himself up for disappointment like that was shameful. Draco didn't need to get the baby anything now, because he was the one keeping the baby at the end…  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
When Harry had not returned after ten minutes, Draco got to his feet. Everyone else had scattered and was doing there own thing as it was, so luckily he wasn't making a scene by following after Harry. He slowly made his way to up the stairs, stopping at the first door he came across and knocking softly.  
  
  
  
“Who is it?” Harry sniffed from the other side. Draco’s eyes widened at the sound of tears that weighed heavy in that voice.  
  
  
  
“It's me, Harry,” he replied softly. “Are you alright?” Harry unbolted the door then, rather quickly to Draco’s surprise to and Draco stepped in, rebolting the door behind him. Harry however wasn't facing him. “Are you alright?” He asked again.  
  
  
  
Harry nodded, despite the sheen of tears and the distinct huskiness to his voice when he spoke. “Fine, really just…hormones, making things…stupid things seem like the end of the world and on top of that I–” He cut off then, eyes shining as he sat on the toilet lid, looking up at Draco.  
  
  
  
How could he tell him how it hurt that he would never see his son or daughter enjoy those gifts? Especially when Draco seemed set on him leaving? _He didn't want me like this, not through an arrangement of Snape and Narcissa._ He didn't want him to stay…  
  
  
  
Suddenly, Draco was in front of him and Harry had to look up further to look at him, finding an oddly anxious look in those eyes. What was Draco about to…?  
  
  
  
Draco studied Harry for a moment his hand shaking in the prolonged, stagnant moment that passed by. Eventually, he reached inside his pocket and pulled out a box, wrapped in brown paper and tied with string. Nothing fancy but…  
  
  
  
“Here,” Draco said at last, handing him the present awkwardly. Harry’s eyes widened at the sight of the gift. Taking the object from Draco’s hands, he stared at it for a moment, before Draco’s voice knocked him from his daze. “Well…open it then,” Draco prompted, feeling far too much pressure building in his gut from prolonging the moment. His pride swelled in his throat, choking him. He’d almost thought he wouldn’t be able to give him it…  
  
  
  
Slowly, Harry ripped the paper away, peering inside the black, leather box with confusion. Inside lay a minute vial on a think black cord, the angles of the carved glass glinted with the artificial toilet light peeking through overhead, and a bluish, nearly translucent fluid glowed dully from within. He wasn't really sure what this gift was.   
  
  
  
“I–I made it…especially,” Draco explained, realiseing that his cheeks felt hotter than usual.   
  
  
  
“W-What is it?” Harry asked.  
  
  
  
“They are usually given to wizarding children who have frequent nightmares,” Draco replied. Harry’s instant thought was that this kind of thing would have been useful to him back during the war, when all he seemed to dream of was _death and Voldemort._  
  
  
  
“It’s called an _Illumiglass,_ the liquid inside shines in the dark,” Draco added, knowing this kind of gift also was meant for for the child rather than him. But still, Draco took the object, tying it around Harry’s neck, it was just the right size to wear, not too heavy.   
  
  
  
Harry felt the soft pressure of the vial fall against his sternum, near his heart and he exhaled shakily. Draco’s fingers released the knotted cord from where he had tied it around his neck, but those his fingers remained, brushing the small hairs on the back of his neck. Draco leant in then, adding an extra touch of infomation about his gift deep into Harry’s ear with hot, husky breaths…  
  
  
  
“The light reacts with more intensity when the wearer experiences negative emotions, it glows dimly when you are content but glows brighter when you are afraid or confused.” Draco smiled then, noticing the glow radiating from it. “So what is it you are feeling right now?” He hummed, making sure his breath caressed the shell of that ear.  
  
  
  
Harry chewed at the inside of his lower lip, running his fingers over the defined structure of the illumiglass. It was probably the most precious gift anyone had ever given him (aside from poor Hedwig, his first birthday present ever). And the part that had him choked was…Draco was the only one who had bought a gift _for him._ Granted, the gifts were meant for the baby, and Harry appreciated them but…the fact that Draco had thought of him first…  
  
  
  
 _And I thought he hadn't bothered,_ Harry thought, his heart fluttering as Draco caressed the little hairs at the back of his neck.   
  
  
  
“I…I was just feeling a bit…bit emotional, about how much effort you'd all put into this,” Harry explained, knowing it was only a half truth. “And…I really like your present, it's so…nice of you, it's incredible, thank you. It's the best out of the lot.” He lifted the crystal with his palm, staring down at the glowing liqiud within, noticing that sheen had dulled a little the closer Draco got. “You made it? I knew you were good at potions and stuff but…it's amazing.” He felt embarrassment at his words, at his behaving like a small child in awe of a new toy. Except this was anything but a toy, and he closed his hand around it gently. It felt quite cool…  
  
  
  
“I'm an amazing wizard too, you know, you're not the only talented one,” Draco said proudly, a smile gracing his lips. He leant into Harry’s ear again then, his lips pressing against the tip of the lobe. “Here's the other part of my gift,” He purred huskily, cheekily, thinking that Harry looked like he needed it. His hand dropped down to his husband’s crotch, rubbing across it roughly. He grinned at the already hot hardness bulging in Harry’s trousers.   
  
  
  
“Hmm… _so_ hard, and look, your little pendant is glowing brightly, you feel nervous, awkward?” Draco teased.  
  
  
  
Harry inhaled sharply, his back arching in reflex as Draco’s hot hand cupped him, massaging him just right, enough to make his cock harden in his grasp. “Yes,” he gasped, swallowing to moisten his suddenly dry throat. “Yes, but I… Oh, Merlin, you're feeling me up in the Weasleys bathroom…!” His voice was torn with embarrassment and arousal, and Draco relished it.  
  
  
  
Draco hissed delightfully. “Hmm, I guess I am touching you up in the Weasleys bathroom. But I don't see you complaining.” Just then, Draco knelt down, unbuttoning Harry’s pants from below and looking up at him deviously. He brushed his cheek over the bulge and then nuzzled vigorously. like a child and a teddy. “So hard,” He hummed, sniffing hungrily at the organ like it was a the most delicious treat. “So _hot_!” He felt Harry arch forward into him and that made his lips curve up into a smile.  
  
  
  
“You want it that bad hmm? And in your best friends’ house? You're so naughty, you should be taught some manners.”  
  
  
  
Harry let out a low, husky "haaa," sound of awkward pleasure as Draco massaged him liberally, tugging at the fold of his briefs to release his insatiable, needy prick from the confines of his trousers, without undressing him. “I-I'm not…” There was no way he could say 'naughty' when he was this hard. He turned his head to the side, avoiding Draco’s gaze determindedly as his shameful cock bobbed up against Draco’s lips.  
  
  
  
“Hmmm, I c-cant, not here, Draco,” he tried, not sure that letting Draco diddle him in his best friends' bathroom was proper.  His hands flew down pushing at the blond's shoulders, but Draco just smiled deviously. He caught Harry behind the knees and pushed his legs up, just enough to stop him from squirming away.  
  
  
  
“Your body _wants it,_ so _enjoy_ it,” Draco whispered, lifting Harry’s cock. His own cock pressed early back against his stomach as his swept his tongue up the centre of Harry’s erection. Tasting him from his heavy balls to his leaking head. “Hmmm, and you're rock hard too. You want my mouth around this, hmm?” He watched Harry’s hazy expression, those eyes glazed over with passion as Draco licked up the side of his prize.  
  
  
  
“Well, if you want me to stop, _I will_ ,” He teased, knowing Harry would not ask him to stop. He rubbed his palm over that prick, tugging the pale foreskin back over the swollen tip, red and heavy with hunger for him, for more. “Hmm,” Draco groaned again, pressing the point of his tongue into the slit. Harry jolted upwards at that immediately, gasping.   
  
  
  
“Ahhh!” Harry gasped, his hands flying to the side and gripping the wall and sink frantically, his hips jerking up to Draco impatiently. “N-No,” he panted, “S'your fault, making me…want you so much…!” He felt Draco chuckle over his appendage, wrapping his lips around the swollen head and sucking gently, his tongue flickering teasingly at the underside. “You're setting a fine example for our child you know,” he breathed teasingly, a wicked gleam in his husband's eyes serving as his only warning, before the blond dived over his needy prick in mock punishment.  
  
  
  
But as the words registered, Draco raised his head. “Our _child_?” He breathed, the cock beneath his chin bobbing eagerly for more. But above him, Harry was redder than a rosy apple. “That’s the first time I've heard you say that,” He added.  
  
  
  
Harry faltered for a moment, wondering if Draco was pleased with this latest development. “I-It is ours isn't it?” Harry asked carefully, “There's part of me in there too, right?” Damn his voice for sounding so unsure. And he knew Draco had been watching the way he'd fondled that damned baby blanket. With eyes shining with a sheen of confusion and lust, Harry watched him, waiting for him to answer.  
  
  
  
“Of course, it's just that…” Draco sighed then. “Nevermind,” He breathed. He had been shocked Harry had referred to it as both of there’s at last, when to begin with, he didn't even want to know, had thought of it as a _thing_ …   
  
  
  
Draco’s hands reached up then to Harry’s stomach, brushing over them as he leant back in and sucked the full length deep into his throat. “Hmm… Yes, it is ours,” He repeated, swallowing Harry hurriedly.  
  
  
  
“Hmmm, yessss…” Harry hissed, sliding his fingers through Draco’s hair in gratitude and desire. “And I – I’m yours,” he breathed, slipping forwards a little as if his body wanted to melt in Draco’s eager mouth. His spine arched, a few locks escaping Draco’s neat plait and sweeping over the swell of his stomach as Draco devoured him. His thighs spread open, as if to draw Draco in deeper, while his hole twitched at the pleasure spreading through his spoiled cock. “Y-Yours…oh please, Draco… _more_!”  
  
  
  
“Hmmm,” Draco hummed, sucking along the full length quickly. His lips slapped around the tip and his chin bashed into Harry’s balls with every downward stroke. The cock filled his entire throat. He circled his head with the bobbing motion then, grasping the back of Harry’s cheeks and spreading them wide, fingers edging around to molest the hairless valley between. Spreading Harry’s legs wider, Draco ducked around him, mouthing the pink star of his tight entrance.  
  
  
  
“Your hole is twitching for me…”  
  
  
  
Harry writhed where he sat on the toilet lid, struggling to stay on it. “Nnnnhmm! N-No! I’m not!” He declared throatily, gasping as if the ecstasy physically _hurt_ when white-hot pleasure boiled in his belly, spreading across his skin like a forest fire. “N-No! Don’t! I can’t…can’t last long tonight; you’re going to make me cum!” He warned, his face aflame with embarrassment.   
  
  
  
Draco shuddered, licking more ravenously with Harry’s sudden announcement, he forced his tongue into that burning ring of flesh to taste him. He gasped and groaned, flicking his muscle around the tight heat inside before drawing back for breath, and tugging that cock generously once more.  
  
  
  
He seized the organ in his hand, pushing the foreskin back from the head so the tip peeked out. Parting his lips, he took his cock back into his mouth, encasing the throbbing member and deep throating that organ with pants of pleasure as he rolled forwards with it. His finger slipped underneath to probe the place he had just been licking.  
  
  
  
“Cum for me then, don't hold back!”  
  
  
  
Harry’s cock pulsed, spitting pre-cum over Draco’s lips while his arse twitched at the touch of those fingers. He was so close that his body was shaking with need. Groaning wantonly, he reached up beneath his shirt and plucked at his pierced nipple, twisting it gently, the way that made pleasure bolt down his spine to his stiff, swollen prick. So close and hard that he could _feel_ the blood rushing through his organ.   
  
  
  
Harry’s hand flew to his mouth to silence himself. Then, his climax hit him, so hard and fast it felt like a damn was breaking in his loins and he opened his eyes (glistening with tears of pleasure) just in time to see Draco draw back. His cock jerked of it’s own accord midair, splashing his white, thick orgasm over Draco’s flushed face. Harry groaned behind his hand, muffling the noise when he saw Draco’s pink tongue dart out to gather his spendings off his lips, apparently disregarding that painting his face.  
  
  
  
“S-So – so _hot!_ ” Harry panted, his chest heaving, “You look so bloody sexy like that, with my cum on your face…”  
  
  
  
Draco flushed at that statement, his own cock hardening at those debauched words. “Heh. I told you that you were naughty, yet I feel like I was the one who got punished here,” He chuckled, tilting his head to take Harry’s cock in his mouth again, sucking out every last drop.  
  
  
  
“ _Alohamora_!”  
  
  
  
The door swung open then, catching them both off guard. Ginny Weasley stood in the doorway, her jaw dropping with shock at the sight of Harry’s cum still dripping from Draco’s cheeks.  
  
  
  
“Oh, shit!” Harry cried out, hurriedly tucking himself away and zipping up his trousers before turning his wand on Draco. “ _Tergeo_!” He muttered, and his climax vanished from his husband’s face, allowing the scowl that he turned on Ginny to be at least a little intimidating…  
  
  
  
Harry sat there, frozen in place by temporary exhaustion (it had been a long day on top of everything that had just happened) and he watched Ginny and Draco sneer at each other. But Harry couldn’t quite get his head around the fact that she had unlocked the door magically when, surely a locked door spoke for a need for privacy? Before he could ask, it was Draco that launched a snarl at her first.  
  
  
  
“What part of occupied did you not see?” Draco snarled, though he was wearing an amused grin. Even with the awkward embarrassment, he was far from ashamed, more annoyed than anything.  
  
  
  
Ginny remained quiet for a few moments more, when Ron appeared behind her. “Whats going on?” He demanded, looking from Draco to Harry in confusion, before he realised, Draco was kneeling on the floor in front of Harry.  
  
  
  
“Merlin’s balls!” He swore, throwing Harry a digusted look. He seemed to have choked on his words, but Ginny was already ahead of him.   
  
  
  
“We do all of this for _you_ , and _this_ is how you _repay_ us? Repay _me,_ you – Harry you know how I feel about you!” Ginny spat, her eyes watery, the headstrong, tomboy looking as if she was about to crack into two.  
  
  
  
Not standing for these people using the guilt card to abuse his husband’s good nature, Draco bolted to his feet, his stormy eyes sharp and wild, _protective_. He pulled Harry into his side and stood before him. “Back off! I was the one who forced Harry into it… He didn't want to soil your precious bog, so if you want someone to blame, blame me!”  
  
  
  
Was he actually defending him, trying to _protect_ him? To his cost?  
  
  
  
“I don't actually believe this, y-you're _protecting_ him? Like that makes up for all the rotten things you have done?!” Ron bit out. Harry stepped before Draco then, shaking his head. They already hated Draco enough _without_ more made up _lies._  
  
  
  
“He didn’t force me,” Harry declared, raising his chin in defiance despite the uneasiness on his legs. “I came up here because I was bloody miserable, Draco was only trying to please me. If you’re pissed off with anyone you should be pissed off with me – he brought me here just to make me happy even though he felt awkward and uncomfortable. And I…”  
  
  
  
He chewed his lip nervously, “My _gay_ activities may disgust you but I didn’t say _anything_ all those nights in the bloody tent when we were horcrux hunting and you and Hermione took it upon yourselves to feel each other up with me lying next to you!” He saw Ron’s face flush as dark as his hair. “Yeah, I was awake!”  
  
  
  
Ginny sighed irately. “Just _like you_ , Harry, because of your ‘ _gay activities_ ’? Is that what you really think?” She glared when Harry said nothing. “It's not about _that_ , it's that you're doing _them_ in our house!”  
  
  
  
Ron intervened then, barely giving Harry the chance to breathe. “And if you're so bloody misrable, why don't you piss off home! We only arranged this to make you happy you ungrateful prat!” Ron sneered. Watching as his best friend hung his head slightly.   
  
  
  
“They are right, it was wrong of us to do it here,” Draco said surprisingly, before rounding on Ron and Ginny. “But you have no right to talk to him like that either. Perhaps we should just leave.”  
  
  
  
Harry’s teeth caught his lip so hard then that he tasted blood. “I’m not miserable because of what you did for me you bloody idiot!” Harry snarled, his temper flaring. “You _know_ what I lived with before I met you all! How can you even suggest I’d be _ungrateful_ for everything your family have done for me? I’m miserable because I won’t get to see my son or daughter get to _have_ any of these things!” He stopped then, his breathing rapid and harsh, his eyes wide as he realised – he’d never told any of them about his deal with Draco. They had no idea. What had he just said?!  
  
  
  
Draco, the first to look round at him in utter shock. Stunned to silence.   
  
  
  
“What do you mean by that?” Ron retorted, beyond confused. “You won't get to see your child have these things? Why not? What’s going on here?” Ginny stared, just as confused as her brother. All eyes were on Harry for answers, but Harry seemed shocked himself.  
  
  
  
“Well?” Ginny prompted, “What did you mean?”  
  
  
  
Harry’s hand flew to his mouth. What had he said? What had he done? He could keep his troubles, his concerns to himself, and if he did that, only he need suffer. Now they understood, now they knew, _Draco_ knew and now they would sacrifice to please him, suffer for him and that was worse than anything he could think of. He didn’t want anyone to sacrifice anything just to make him happy. “I…I didn’t… Just forget it,” he struggled out, marching forward for the door, but as soon as he passed the threshold, Ron seized his arm, yanking him back into the room before them, demanding answers.   
  
  
  
“No. No you tell us then. You always told me I didn’t understand so _make_ me understand. Tell me what the bloody hell is wrong for once!”  
  
  
  
Harry winced, turning his head to fix his gaze on a particularly interesting crack in the floorboards. “I pissed it all away, Ron,” Harry murmured darkly, “I ruined everything, just like I ruined tonight.” He raised his head then, looking at the three in the room with him. “Thank you, so much, it was amazing, really, and you’re all so…I didn’t deserve it – thank your mum and the others too.” And with that, he pulled himself from Ron’s grasp, bolting out the door and down the stairs. He had to get away, Draco couldn’t know…nobody could…  
  
  
  
“Harry!” Ron called after him, but Draco was already ahead of him and raised his arm to stop Ron from pursuing. “Thank you, for tonight, it's probably…just his hormones,” Draco suggested before darted down the stairs after Harry, but not quick enough as the flames swept Harry away just as he reached the kitchen.  
  
  
  
Snatching up a handful of the floo powder, Draco swiftly followed, his heart hammering in his chest. He stumbled forward through his fireplace, thanking Merlin that he had been right and Harry had returned home. There he was, standing before the fireplace, his back turned.  
  
  
  
“What the hell was that about? You can't just walk away from people like that!” Draco started. “And you – you _want_ our child? I thought you…” But his voice trailed off uselessly and he stood there, watching for Harry’s response.  
  
  
  
Harry felt guilt claw at his throat like a beast scrambling onto a ledge and his hands curled so tightly into fists at his sides that his shoulders shook. “I…I know, I’m…I’ll make it up to them I _will_ , I…hormones, they’ll understand…I’ve done worse, back when Voldemort was alive. I put them in danger again and again, but they…they still love me,” Harry whispered, more to himself than Draco.   
  
  
  
The blond stepped out of the grate which roared back to life with orange flames as he moved forwards, seizing Harry by the shoulders and turning him to face him. “You’re not making any sense you prat!” He snarled, shaking his husband fiercely, “Tell me what you meant by what you said before!”  
  
  
  
“You heard what I said!” Harry shouted, stumbling back out of Draco’s grasp. “I pissed it all away when I made that deal with you! Just like I always do when I make stupid, rash decisions. As if nearly getting all of my friends killed before didn’t teach me a bloody thing…!”  
  
  
  
“I may have said it was bloody hormones to them, but you can't fool me with my own lie. I don't understand what you mean, _pissed it all away,_ so what? What do you want? You want our child?” Draco took hold of Harry roughly and shook him a little determined to hear the truth from him at last. “Well?!” When he received no answer still, he removed his hands from Harry's shoulders and walked over to their settee then, throwing his jacket over the back and busying himself with undoing his cuff links as he waited for answers. Anything to hide his anxiety from Harry.  
  
  
  
Harry glanced at the nearest chair, thinking of moving to it, of taking the weight off his legs, but he just couldn’t force his limbs into movement. “Does it matter?” He breathed, glancing down and seeing the liquid in his illumiglass shining a brilliant, blue. “I promised you could have him or her, and you’ll probably take care of it a bloody sight better than I ever could… I never even knew my parents, and the Dursleys example was a piss-poor one – I’d never be able to give it the things you could…”  
  
  
  
He really wasn’t making sense now, in his head the words sounded gobbledegook.   
  
  
  
“ _Does it matter_?” Draco repeated. “What a stupid bloody question! I think it would rather have two parents who love it instead of one! We don't have to be together, but if you want to be a part of it's life then…” Draco lost his words then, struggling to find them while he unbuttoned his shirt (but left it on) and kicked his shoes aside.   
  
  
  
Finally, he dropped back into the settee and stared at Harry, the correct words, the ones that would make Harry understand forming in his head. _One slip of the tongue and I’ll lose him,_ he thought. “The terms were that you could leave here if you wanted to, and in return you would keep our baby for me, but if you want it too, I see no reason why we cant _both_ be involved…”  
  
  
  
This wasn't coming out right. Draco wanted Harry to be part of his child’s life more than anything – a part of his life! “What I mean is, maybe we could…like arrange times and days with it…if… Well that’s if you…if that’s what you want?”  
  
  
  
Harry stared at him, as if he had grown two heads and found himself at a bit of a loss for words. “I…I don’t know, I…I’m not sure about shoving it from pillar-to-post. I just don’t – what type of bloody parent am I going to be? I didn’t even _want_ it to start with, surely that says something? That it took me four months to want it?” How he wished he could force his body to move…  
  
  
  
“You wanted it from the start, you fought me for it and you…you gave up what you wanted most for it,” He flushed darkly, not meeting those eyes, “I bargained it away for my own bloody freedom!”   
  
  
  
“Some children grow up knowing their parents never wanted them at the start, a lot of people have children by accident. A lot of people don't want their child at first, but you only resented it because of me and how it came about. It's not a bloody crime to be confused and afraid, you prat!” Draco sighed, dragging his fingers through his hair frustratedly until the plait came loose.  
  
  
  
Harry wasn't sure he like it brushed back like that.  
  
  
  
“If you do decide you want to be a part of it's life you have to say. You don’t want to be regretting not doing more twenty years on!” Draco insisted. He may have been a git at times, but this was probably the first time he had made sense. And when it mattered most, to the person that mattered most to him. “People can love their parents regardless of how their parents feel about them, or behave towards them. It-It’s called unconditional love, Harry,” Draco murmured, the wince that sped across his features suggesting his words were from experience. And bitter experience at that. “Well whatever you decide, make sure it’s the right decision. I'm more than willing to share my life and our child with you, it is _ours_ after all…”  
  
  
  
Harry opened his mouth to answer, but it only snapped shut again soundlessly. Draco’s eyes roved over him, as if debating whether or not to say more. But slowly, Harry found himself moving forwards, until he was standing between Draco’s open legs. His breath hitched as those grey eyes stared up at him and his lips moved again as he slid his fingers into the blond locks. He gently coerced it from what remained of the braid, until the near-shoulderlength locks fell loosely around Draco’s face. “I don’t like it brushed back,” he said mindlessly, his fingers never drawing away, and leaving Draco stunned for words in his seat. “Draco?” He began uncertainly, “I…” But his words were cut short.  
  
  
  
A loud, familiar knocking echoed through the room, just before Hermione’s face appeared in the grate, the only warning before she stepped through. “Sorry to interrupt,” She apologised with a raised brow, approaching as she held a plain grey gift bag out to whichever of them chose to take it first. “You left in such a hurry you didn’t take the baby’s presents,” she said, offering Harry a small, understanding smile. “Are you both alright?”  
  
  
  
Draco looked stunned. “H-How did you get in? We have charms up of all sorts! Harry and I are the only ones who are supposed to be able to use the floo into here!”  
  
  
  
“Yes I had noticed that, Draco, you may also remember that Harry would have permitted entry for Ron and myself, surely. But I wondered why exactly you would need such charms in your own home?”   
  
  
  
Harry moved forward to collect the gifts. smiling at her. Draco sneered at that comment, of course, without giving her the answer.   
  
  
  
Draco brushed past Harry then. He had a headache, and this whole situation was draining him. He had hoped to have Harry for so long, and now, this indecision. He hated it. “I'm going up to bed, see you when you come up,” Draco said simply, pulling his shirt off completely (so he was topless) and laying it beside his jacket on the back of the chair, before giving Harry a look of irritation and making his way into the bedroom. Hermione tried not to blush at the brazen display, but it was a losing battle, even Harry seemed a tad flustered by it.   
  
  
  
“I think in the rush he forgot that Narcissa, Snape, Ron and you have free entry into our chambers, but… Hermione, listen about tonight, I–”  
  
“You listen to me very carefully, Harry James Potter – _Malfoy_ ,” she corrected herself, her face stern and causing Harry to drop into the couch. “I am about to tell you something about Hugo that I’ve never told another soul, and you will _not_ repeat it!”  
  
Harry nodded earnestly, his best friend dropping into the couch beside him, wrapping her hands around his.  
  
  
  
“I had my whole future planned ahead of me, Harry. I wanted to go to muggle university to study, and then to take an apprenticeship perhaps in the Wizarding world. Wizarding and muggle communications, yes that’s what I dreamt of… Ron and I got married and…just one slip-up, Harry one time without the right spells of protection and…”  
  
  
  
She looked into his eyes, a film of sympathy in her shining orbs. “I was bitter when I found out about Hugo, I was losing my dream for a baby I wasn’t ready for. I resented him, I mourned by lost chances and I had no idea what kind of mother I would be. Me, books and cleverness? How could I ever be a fit parent–”  
  
  
  
“That’s nonsense!” Harry declared, “You’re a perfect mother, Hugo adores you! You adore him–”  
  
  
  
“Now I am, now I _do_ love him, more than anything, but understand Harry, not everyone is perfect – life isn’t perfect. Just because… Harry I saw your face when you came to us that night, it was the same as mine.” Her face lifted into a warm smile then and she set one hand on her friend’s shoulder, patting it gently. “And now, now it’s the same expression I wear every morning. You’ll be a wonderful father, Harry – you may not have all the answers, you may be uncertain but that’s only normal. It’s something you, Draco and the baby are all going to have to learn together.”  
  
  
  
Harry nodded, dropping his eyes to his lap, where he still held one of her hands tightly. “I’ve messed up so badly already I just wish I could… My baby hasn’t even moved yet! What if it’s–?” He cut short, shaking his head slowly, he couldn’t even _think_ of it. “Draco offered to…to share custody of the baby, so that we could both have it and I could have my freedom, but… I’m not sure if I…I want to leave here, him, the way we planned it…”  
  
  
  
Hermione looked startled for a moment. “You – He was going to let you leave? But what about the contract?”  
  
  
  
“Well leave in the sense that, of course, we would still be married, but I…I wouldn't have to be here…with him…if I didn’t want to.”  
  
  
  
“Well surely that’s good isn't it? Especially if he is willing to come to a comprimise about the child. I think that’s great news, a lot of parents fight over their children and–”   
  
  
  
“You don't understand, Hermione,” Harry started. “Things aren’t the same as they were when we were forced into this. _He_ isn’t the same. Neither am I. He’s taken care of me, Hermione, I like it when I’m with him, I feel…at ease…” He watched her survey him with a critical expression crossing her pretty features.   
  
  
  
“Harry, you know what Stockholm Syndrome is, don’t you?”  
  
  
  
Harry frowned. “I know what it is, Hermione, and that’s not what this is. I’m not his bloody prisoner, I’m his husband!”  
  
  
  
Hermione’s grimace did not smooth out. “Harry, are you…are you very sure that this isn’t just…just you, your habit of making the best of a horrible situation? You’ve been trapped with him for months, a few token kindnesses from him could easily lead you to believe that he loves you, that you love him–”  
  
  
  
“I’m not a bloody twit!” Harry declared, a nasty, roiling cramp twisting his stomach and his hand flew to it. “This isn’t a horrible situation! He – he does everything in his power to make me happy! Last night he got up at three in the bloody morning to fetch me some bloody chocolate gateu just because I fancied it!” Even now, his cheeks went pink at the memory of Draco’s ready compliance.  
  
  
  
Hermione rubbed his shoulder again, looking at him as if he were a little boy who didn’t know what he was saying. “Harry…that’s just it, he only need do a few, small things for you and someone in your position, in his power will forget all the bad things…”  
  
  
  
“I haven’t forgotten them! I’ve _forgiven_ them, and that’s the difference. I’m not a fool, he isn’t perfect, but nor am I.”  
  
  
  
“But he is offering you freedom, a life, you can still have _both_. You don't have to be here. I-I don't understand. He tortured you. The only reason he seems to have changed, is because of what’s inside you. He doesn't care about you. What happens when the baby is born? You think he will still treat you so well? It's Draco Malfoy!” Her voice lowered when she said his last name. “Malfoy, _Malfoy_ , Harry!”  
  
  
  
“T-That’s not true!” He screamed, leaping to his feet despite the pain in his gut, sure that Draco probably would have heard that last shout. “He tortured me, he did vile things but he’s making amends, and he’s doing it for me – me as well. You don’t…you don’t see it at all…you don’t…!”  
  
  
  
Uncertainty seeped into his voice and he shook his head in despair, hysteria settling in. “And that’s right, a Malfoy – just like me. I’m a bloody Malfoy, Hermione! I signed away my fucking name, my _being_ to that contract, he’s given the latter back to me. He didn’t have to take me tonight, he doesn’t have to make love to me or kiss me or fetch me ice-cream. He could lock me in my room and his baby would be perfectly fine! He loves me, he wants _me,_ he does!”  
  
  
  
Hermione got to her feet sharply. “I-I just find it hard to believe that this is anything more than your confusion in being trapped here and your hormones needing company. He had spent all his life hating you, at least that’s what it seemed like. He even…he was prepared to kill Dumbledore to save himself!”  
  
  
  
“But he didn't.”  
  
  
  
“But he could have if he wanted, that’s what I'm getting at! You're…you're not thinking straight!” Hermione insisted, before giving a defeated, hopeless sigh. “But…I…I have to go…”  
  
  
  
Harry nodded sadly, gesturing to the floo, “Whatever Draco’s done, Hermione, he’s done to protect someone, or something. Back in the war it was his mother and himself, when he tortured me, it was…it was to protect himself, from crumbling…” _To protect himself from Lucius’s disappointment,_ his mind supplied. He saw, however, that Hermione was still sceptical, and merely showed her to the fireplace. “Thank the Weasleys again, I’ll be…be round to do so myself when I think everythings…” But he didn’t finish, merely turned into the door leading into the bedroom. He heard the flare of the floo, signalling Hermione’s exit, before he shut the door behind him, dropping the bag of gifts for the baby on the sidetable.  
  
  
  
“She’s gone,” Harry said to Draco, who was lying on the bed, naked but for his pyjama bottoms, with his eyes closed and arms folded behind his head. Harry knew he wasn’t sleeping.  
  
  
  
Grey eyes fluttered open when Harry entered the room, but closed shortly after again. Removing his hands from the back of his head, Draco rolled onto his side, facing away from Harry. Was he sulking?  
  
  
  
“Right,” he said, and he felt the bed sink when Harry walked over and sat on it beside him. “I… Would you get me a potion? I have a headache,” Draco groaned, glancing over his shoulder to Harry, still successfully hiding with the angle. This had been the first time he had asked Harry to get him anything. Yet without much hesitance, he heard Harry hurry to the bathroom and felt the potion drop into the pillow beside his head.  
  
  
  
“Thanks,” He said, leaning over for the potion and taking one deep swig. His head still throbbing irritatingly, he remained quite still, not sure what to say…  
  
  
  
“I…I’m sorry if you overheard any of that… Hermione doesn’t understand, none of them do. They think because they were all lucky, because they fell in love when it was convenient and with someone who _immediately_ loved them back, because they…they’ve never hurt each other, not really, they can’t undertand and they… I tried to ask her for advice but…I suppose I was angry because it wasn’t the advice I wanted to hear…” Harry turned to Draco then, finally ceasing his ramblings, unsure whether Draco was angry with him, or just…confused, as he was.  
  
  
  
“Thank you, for taking me tonight, it was… I know I didn’t seem very grateful, but I really did appreciate it. You are…you’re a good husband.”   
  
  
  
Draco flushed at that statement, smiling when he turned to him. “I’d watch that, anyone might think you’re falling for me.” He laughed almost immediately after he said it. But Harry seemed to look from him then back to the floor with embarrassment.  
  
  
  
“She cares about you, she doesn’t want to see you unhappy, I’m not angry. I’m just…” Draco stopped then, looking inside himself and searching his thoughts for the right words. “I don’t want you to think one thing and change your mind the next. If you want something you have to ask for it, you need to know right now, that I will…I will try and make it work, whatever you decide.”  
  
  
  
Draco’s tongue darted out then to wet his suddenly dry lips. “It’s not…I don’t want to be interfering like my mother and Severus, or force you to do something you don’t want to do. But I’m…I’m trying to change and I…” He sighed heavily. “I don’t even know what I’m trying to say, let’s just forget it. For now…”  
  
  
  
Harry nodded, sitting up on the bed and watching Draco palm his forehead furiously, a wince crossing the blond’s face. “Weasley headache?” Harry asked, trying to relieve the tension, he was tired and quite relieved that the conversation could be postponed, the door left open for when he was ready…for when he knew what he wanted. “Or is it a Harry headache?” He asked, Draco gave a derisive snort but said nothing, hissing in pain as he sat up properly, evidently waiting for the pain to pass.  
  
  
  
Harry shifted closer (ignoring the odd pain in his stomach, it was probably just wind again anyway) and shifting over to Draco’s side, bringing an arm around his shoulder to massage his temples in slow circles. Draco startled at the touch.  
  
  
  
Draco melted under those fingers for a moment, before snapping at Harry to stop. “Sorry…it…it just hurt. The pressure of your fingers got too intense.” He watched Harry draw back at that. Draco was always like this, a complete wuss, when it came down to it. “No, don’t–” Draco drew Harry back by his sleeve. “I…stay? I want you to stay…just…don’t rub so hard.” There was an awkward moment then, but they both flushed shortly after at the innuendo. “I didn’t mean that!” Draco insisted.  
  
  
  
“Of course you didn’t,” Harry smirked, drawing Draco’s reluctant body back until that blond head rested on his chest, this time, he caressed his hair with slow strokes, favouring his tender forehead gently every now and then. “Your head feels hot,” Harry said quietly, enjoying the warmth of Draco’s body above his, without anything sexual instigating it. “Suppose it must be a Harry headache if it gets you all flustered,” Harry teased, that pain in his stomach settling at last. And then his eyes widened in their sockets at the sudden, subtle roiling bubble. On top of him, Draco’s breathing stopped.  
  
  
  
“Draco!” Harry gasped, the blond whirling to face him so fast that it made Harry jump. “I…I think the baby just kicked you in the back,” he laughed softly.  
  
  
  
Draco rolled over to face him. “I-I think so too…the little brat, must take after you then,” Draco joked softly, his eyes as big as an awed child. “Can I…can I touch it…?” Harry nodded at him then, rolling up his shirt. As Draco pressed his hands to the bump, he felt a slight movement roll passed his hand. “It moved again!” He said excitedly. He edged himself down then and placed his ear to Harry’s stomach carefully. “It’s so amazing to think there’s life in there…”  
  
  
  
Harry just nodded, that wet sheen becoming his eyes again as he looked down at where Draco was now pushing his shirt off his stomach to better feel the movement. “If anything I bet it’s all blond and pointy like you,” Harry mused huskily, an odd lump in his throat constricting his speech. “But it feels like it’s got a quidditch skill building in there, so it could be me.” He saw Draco spare him enough attention to give him a light-hearted scowl, before looking back to his stomach, as if he could see it (which he couldn’t), but Harry found he didn’t mind the shift of attention. Actually he found quite…warmed by the hopeful atmosphere that had settled. _Great timing,_ Harry thought, that odd weight in his stomach lifted by the slight movement. It felt _real_ suddenly, like before he could have just as easily been mistaken but now…  
  
  
  
“Oh Merlin, I’m actually pregnant,” he murmured, his own hand coming to lay next to Malfoy’s head on his stomach, wondering how long the little wave of movement would last.   
  
  
  
Draco laughed at that. “Yes, you are pregnant, Harry,” he chuckled. “Can I just…hold you and the baby, for a bit?” Draco asked carefully, in a tone that suggested he feared rejection. Harry nodded vigorously as those thick arms wrapped around him and pulled him close, the bump between their naked stomachs.   
  
  
  
Draco closed his eyes, melting in the moment. He had dreamt of this for so long. Even with his obsession, his desires, this what he wanted most, the closeness, to feel Harry next to him, to lay beside him, hold him. This is something he had wanted more than perhaps Harry himself. And as his eyes remained shut, he sank into the bed between Harry’s legs, relaxed.   
  
  
  
“Draco?” Harry asked softly after a while, but there was no answer, the blond was already fast asleep.  
  
  
  
 _  
  
~To Be Continued..._


	16. Dessert

[Sixteen]  
  
 **Dessert**  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
A little over a week into December and most mornings found Harry clinging to sleep, thanks to the morning sickness abating and a lot of the quesiness, in general speaking, he felt (and looked) quite healthy. The only thing that had a tendancy to awake him was that bloody elf with his monstrous breakfast, or the youngest bloody Malfoy…  
  
  
  
“Mmhpf!” Harry grumbled into his pillow as he awoke with a jerk and his hand moved down to where the gremlin in his belly was moving. Looking up to where Draco had rolled over in sleep, he saw the reason for the baby’s protesting movements – Draco had taken most of the duvet with him.  
  
  
  
“That’s what pissed you off, hm?” He asked the growing bump, which had swelled swiftly in the last few weeks. Evidently, his words had awoken the other Malfoy in his bed, since Draco rolled back to him, staring at him with sleepy confusion. “You stole the covers, your son or daughter didn’t like it,” Harry explained, as if that were the most normal explanation for talking to yourself. “It’s rolling around like a tussling kitten on catnip in there.”  
  
  
  
“What?!” Draco asked in a daze of sleepy confusion, slowly sobering. He pushed himself up from where he had been laying and leant forward to the bump. “‘Mmm, sorry baby,” He said, placing his hand on top of his child. Harry was blushing again. Why every time Draco touched it, or him?   
  
  
  
“Bollocks!” Draco exclaimed suddenly, noticing the time. “I’m going to be late for work!”  
  
  
  
Harry watched him disappointedly, but understanding. Draco had to have the day off tomorrow for their next appointment with O’Dempsy as it was, and was struggling to keep on top of his work lately. But Harry had felt better in himself lately, the regular (and strengthening) movements inside of him cheering him, and so he just nodded, reaching to the side for his glasses when Draco all-but leapt from the bed. “Shall I come shower with you?” Harry asked sheepishly and he saw Draco stop in scrambling to find his clothes (evidently forgetting he was a wizard for the moment) to look at him.  
  
  
  
“I’d love it, but I don’t have the time this morning, Harry,” he replied apologetically, seemingly annoyed that he couldn’t take him up on the offer. And the way he had used his first name so casually, it made Harry smile in spite of the refusal.  
  
  
  
“Is there…?” Harry faltered in his question, not sure how it would sound once the words left his lips. “Is there anything I can do for you, today?” He asked, suprising Draco again.  
  
  
  
Draco laughed. “Not that I can think of, but I’ll try not to be too late this evening,” he promised, walking round the bed to Harry, he leant forward and patted that swollen belly gently. Since Harry had been allowing him to touch it, he couldn’t stop. He drew closer and placed a kiss upon it.   
  
  
  
It was strange seeing Draco so caring, more so then he ever imagined him to be, but it was nice.   
  
  
  
“Don’t reward it with affection for waking me up!” Harry declared jokingly, feeling the soft pant of the blond’s laugh against his skin. He watched Draco straighten from petting his stomach and shot forward to snatch those lips with his own kiss, a swift, chaste meeting before he released him again. “Have a nice day, _Dear_ ,” he said with a smirk.  
  
  
  
“Merlin’s balls, I wish you wouldn't do that when I have to leave,” Draco replied softly. He knew Harry could practically sense his sexual tension. It must have been radiating from him in waves. “Have a good day, too,” Draco purred in retaliation, as he headed towards the door.  
  
  
  
Harry scrambled from the bed as fast as his swelling belly would allow and hurried to the bathroom. As he understood it, (as with a pregnant woman) around this time the – he still couldn’t say the ‘w’ word – was up off his bladder and directly beneath his bellybutton. He frowned down at his non-existant waistline as he entered the magically drawn bubblebath, grateful that Draco had taken his navel-piercing out. That would pop soon no doubt. He cringed at the thought.  
  
  
  
The foamy water sloshed nicely against his sore skin and he reached for the balm that Draco had concocted, rubbing it over his stretching flesh. _This is a period of growth for you and baby,_ he reminded himself, reciting it from the useless book he’d been reading. That didn’t make him feel any better about being perfectly visible now, unless his wore his Weasley jumpers, but Draco didn’t much care for them.  
  
  
  
Leaning back against the wall of the tub, Harry closed his eyes, feeling his soreness subside. Draco really was a wizard. Things had been like this since the night at the Weasleys. Calm, almost playful, it was as if their son or daughter’s movement had eradicated the gloomy cloud over their heads. That was part of the magic of it, he supposed, soaking until his toes were wrinkled and his stomach felt numb.  
  
  
  
Having been advised to use his magic regularly (so as not to overload the baby) he charmed himself dry, summoning his loosest trousers and shirt. He had only just managed to get into them and was just struggling to tame his hair when a small _pop_ alerted him to Eric’s arrival.  
  
  
  
“Master Harry Malfoy, Sir!” The elf chimed when Harry moved into the bedroom, seeing his servant setting the enormous tray of food on the bed. He frowned, climbing onto the bed to tuck into the fish-inspired breakfast.  
  
“Draco didn’t have time for breakfast, can you send him something?” He asked Eric and the house elf nodded, frantic to please. “Good, thanks, and while you’re out, can you get these things for me…” He reached over to the sidetable, retrieving a piece of paper from the drawer. The elf took it, his huge eyes scanning the list.  
  
  
  
“This is a list of food ingredients, Master Harry Malfoy, Sir?” Eric asked curiously. Harry nodded, pouring sauce over his salmon.  
  
“Yeah, I wanted to err…make something for Draco when he got home. But I am thinking it may take me a while – I haven’t made that dish since I was eleven, you see.” Those ridiculously large elf ears perked.  
  
“Oh! Master Harry Malfoy, Sir! That is good! So good! Eric will help! He will make his best Mediteranean fishcakes! They will go wonderfully with this, Sir! Eric will help!”  
  
  
  
“Yeah, yeah alright you can help,” Harry said quickly, holding onto the tray to stop it from flying off the bed with Eric’s excited bouncing. “Go drop off some food for Draco, though and then get the ingredients, I’ll _hopefully_ be done with this by then.” He smiled as Eric nodded madly, before disappearing with another _pop_.  
  
  
  
The elf’s return found him waiting at the door to their chambers. He didn’t relish stepping outside the safety of the manor, but he hadn’t seen Lucius for weeks (he’d claimed to be visiting relatives in Bulgaria) and even if his father-in-law had returned, the house elf would either help him or call Draco. And besides, he had his wand close at hand, unlike in the other _occurences_. The elf lead him down to the main kitchen (where none of the Malfoys _ever_ went, thanks to their supply of house elves) and Harry cast a quick security charm on the room so that no one could enter besides the elves.   
  
  
  
“I’m making Spaghetti with lobster and basil,” Harry told Eric as the elf set the apparatus out on the insurmountable kitchen island. It was odd that the Malfoy’s owned such a richly coloured, luxury kitchen if they never saw it, but Harry was using it now, he supposed. He pulled the frilly apron he had asked Eric to purchase (from the list) out of the bag and pulled it on – it looked ridiculous, and girly, but it was all part of the _gift…_  
  
  
  
When he saw Eric and the other three elves present start to work Harry rushed to stop them. “No, no, _I am_ making it,” he corrected them softly, “You can make the dessert if you want but this is something I want to do.”  
  
  
  
Eric frowned, obviously confused. But Master Harry Malfoy, we are here for these reasons, we like to cook for you!” Eric declared, wincing when Harry’s expression became irratable. “Forgive me, Sir, but Eric does not understand why you want to go to the trouble of making it, when he can do it…and better.” Harry scowled at that. Eric flinched as his eyes narrowed and scurried away from him then.   
  
  
  
“Yes Master Harry Malfoy, just dessert, Sir!” He said, wishing he hadn't said what he did to deserve that glare. He and the other elves never had understood their half-blood master’s peculiar ways and wishes…  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
“Mr Malfoy, have you got those editorials approved?” Asked one of the women who worked at the Prophet. Draco looked up to see her glistening purple locks wound up into elegant curls, tinted with multihued strands in the sunlight from the enchanted windows. Although it was glaringly obvious she used enhancement charms on her person. “I'm almost there, just a tad snowed under,” he replied politely, looking back to the pile before him.  
  
  
  
The woman simply smiled disappointedly, but not in terms of Draco’s work. She walked in, closing the door behind her quietly. “You know, Sir, I have been meaning to ask you something for some time now.”  
  
  
  
Draco dropped his quill then, giving her his full attention. He had been neglecting his work for a while now, it was bound to be noticed sooner or later. He had fully prepared for this. “Yes?” He asked, gesturing for her to take a seat. She ignored him, coming to stand against the side of his desk, leaning back as she spoke.   
  
  
  
“The girls on fourth and myself, were a little confused as to why a strapping man like yourself, would… Don't think me rude here, but settle for another man? You could have any woman, and I mean… _anyone_!”  
  
  
  
Draco sighed. “It's not about settling, Freya, but I don't have to explain myself to my employees–” He started, but the woman was already sliding onto his desk. He looked up at her then, unamused. “And just what are you doing?” This is not what he had expected.  
  
  
  
“Well,” she began coquettishly, crawling over his papers to settle her round buttocks on the edge of his desk, sliding her long legs through the arms of his chair and pulling him closer. “You said that it’s not settling, so there’s room for maneuver, am I right, Mr Malfoy?” The way she said that, his name in the most sexy drawl, as if it were the most powerful aphrodisiac, it made him flinch. That wasn’t the way Harry said it. “Come on, _Sir_ , you loved our little office affairs before you took that husband of yours.”  
  
  
  
She reached up to loosen the buttons on her shirt, her ample bosom on full view as she leant down, caressing the soft line of the blond hair at the back of his neck. But it felt… _wrong_. “Hmmm, Sir, you remember, don’t you? We even did this after your wedding night. I suppose the same piece of arse can get boring once you’ve had it,” she gave a cruel laugh, working at the knot of Draco’s tie, with him frozen underneath her touch. “I suppose you’ve thoroughly worn him in – does his arse even close up again after? How disgusting…and pregnant too?”  
  
  
  
Draco stiffened at her words, her heat pressing wantonly against him as she leant in, smearing her red lipstick over his cheek in promise of what was to come. “How can you even stand to touch him while he’s bloated like that? Share your bed with him? So repulsive, you poor dear… _no wonder you come to me_ …” Her last words were a seductive purr in his ear.  
  
  
  
“No,” Draco started as her breathing sent shudders over him like it would with any warm-blooded man.   
  
  
  
“No?” She repeated. “You don't agree with me?”  
  
  
  
Draco leapt back then, the chair beneath him falling as he flinched away from her touch and pushed her back. She flew back off the table, disorientated, and a little shocked. “You – you refused me?! You–” She started.   
  
  
  
“Don't you dare come into my office, talking about someone I care for in that manner!” Draco glared. “Go on, get out!” But a sly smile merely cracked her lips and she approached him again. Insistently, he shoved her away. “Didn't you hear me? Go on, get out! You're sacked!”  
  
  
  
Her eyes widened at that. Draco knew he couldn't really afford to sack anyone with the way things were going for him right now, he needed everyone working together so that he could take time away for Harry later on. And he knew, if this had been his father, he would have fucked her simply to keep everyone sweet, but he…he couldn't. Not anymore.  
  
  
  
“Care about him? Have you gone mad?! You’re refusing me in favour of your needy pregnant _husband_?! He can never give you what I can! He was just a convenient hole that was bound to you – you said that, and now he’s a convenient hole to deposit the next Malfoy heir in. What’s changed so suddenly, _Sir_? Something has happened. I refuse to believe you could possibly think that the pleasure I gave you pales to his. Saint Bloody Potter will always be the same, whether he has your name and your ring on his finger or not!” She marched forwards, slamming her hands down on the table, seeing the newpaper cutting from their own paper, carrying a magical, moving picture of both Draco and a pregnant Harry. She sneered in revulsion, throwing it towards him.   
  
  
  
“How can an appearance-obsessed playboy like you settle for _that?_ I’ve _dealt with_ your father, I know first hand – a Malfoy can never be monogamous. Can never be a _true_ husband. You’re just like him, hard for anything with a nice face – so what is it with four-eyes Potter? Because his appearance certainly can’t tempt you.” She always had been a jealous, vapid snake, this woman. She had spurned a few of Draco’s other _acquaintances_ in the past, but they had only been… _fucks_ , he didn’t care what she said about them…   
  
  
  
But when it was Harry her forked tongue was lashing at…  
  
  
  
Draco’s hand drew to her throat then, crushing the gasp that fled her lips. His eyes burned and with brutal force, he threw her back against the door with an alarming crunch!   
  
  
  
“Thats it, give it to me rough!” She hissed, wrapping her long fingers around his head even while struggling to breath in his grasp.  
  
  
  
“I don't have to explain myself to _you_!” Draco snarled, “I may have been that person before, but I am not _anymore. As for you_ , you were only ever a fuck, and a shit one at that. A stupid insignificant slut who cannot comprehend anything beyond her own self. Now. Get the fuck out of my office. Get the _fuck_ out of this building and never show your face to me again!” Draco screamed, his eyes wide and furious. He hadn't felt this mad since…  
  
  
  
She smiled wickedly, rubbing her raw throat as he threw her away from him. “Hmm, that’s it, this is your true self, is it not? Can you be your true self with him? With your dainty, expectant _Potter boy_ – no, of course you can’t. You can’t fuck him so hard he won’t know whether to cry or cum, he can’t satisfy you with his useless, used body. You’re best like this, furious and burning with passion – tell me, tell me if your precious Potter ever got you like that?”   
  
  
  
Her smile never faltered, even as Draco shoved her roughly towards the door, her arm slamming into the handle roughly. She hissed in pleasure at the bruise. “Your father came to me with a proposition, you know,” she purred darkly, reaching up to touch the lipstick smear she had left on Draco’s cheek. “He suggested, that should anything ever happen to your favourite pet, that I would be a good candidate to take his place… I’m much more suitable for the role as Mrs Malfoy.”  
  
  
  
Draco sneered at that. Even though the thought plummeted to his stomach and made him feel quite sick. “ _Fuck_ my father, and _fuck you,_ if you think I'd ever downgrade from Harry to you. You vapid whore! That’s the thing with all of you pureblood slappers, you think you're Merlin’s gift! If you want clarity in that messed up head, yes I do fuck him, and yes sometimes it isn't all rough and go, but that’s fine. I'm fine with that because I–”  
  
  
  
“Oh, please don't say what I think you're going to. I may vomit. You _don't_ love him, he’s just a hole!”  
  
  
  
Draco raised his fist then, slamming it sharply into her over-blushed cheek with fierce crunch. His wedding ring splut the side of her lip with the blow, blood splattering her otherwise perfect face. “I think it's wrong to hit a woman, but you're no woman, you're a piece of dirt on my shoe!” Draco growled, throwing open the door at last. “Now, _get out_!”  
  
  
  
She scrambled to her feet, clawing at her bloody lip in anguish. “I’m not Merlin’s gift you arrogant little fool,” She snarled, everyone in the editing room beyond listening to every word, “But I’m worth a damn sight more than your scrawny, bony little chicken of a husband! If you want him you can have him but you’ll regret this and you’ll lose the little, sentimental idiot in the end anyway. What a foolish mistake, sacrificing everything for a fair-weather spouse who’ll chuck you as soon as you show your true colours. You’re a Malfoy through and through, _Draco,_ ” she spat, before turning on her heel and marching through the outer office, disappearing amoungst her once co-workers.  
  
  
  
“Get back to work!” Draco snarled and his employees bolted back to their desks and he slammed the door behind him, falling against it, his eyes closing as his thoughts thundered through his head.   
  
  
  
“FUCK!” He shouted, smashing his foot into the door. Aware that everyone in the room beyond had probably heard him. He still felt the fury rushing through his veins. Her words repeating in his head. Harry wasn't just a convenience. He had never been, everything she said was…  
  
  
  
Well it would have been true with anyone else. He was and always would be a Malfoy, and he would always have the same violence, the same bitter desires in his heart. With anyone else it would rule him, but with Harry, it seemed like background noise. Lately he felt as though he was more content with the way things were, with how simple and quiet things could be…  
  
  
  
His hands were shaking with the adrenaline pulsing through him, he had almost forgotten what it was to feel this anger. What if he reverted back just like she said? What if he harmed his child, like…   
  
  
  
He flinched at the thought. “NO!” He screamed, to no one in particular but his own self-doubt. “I don't want to be like that! I don't…!” He drew back then, falling into his chair once more, his hair sweeping over his shoulders like a golden curtain, shielding him and his shame from the world.   
  
  
  
_I don't want to be that person anymore, the person that hurt him, the person that Harry would never, ever want…_  
  
  
  
He looked down at his trembling hands again. He had hurt Harry with his hands the last time he had felt this angry.  
  
  
  
“I don't want this…”  
  
  
  
A loud _pop_ sounded and Draco jumped as he saw that damned elf dropping a basket onto the table. “Master Draco Malfoy, Sir!” The elf announced, bowing low before pushing the basket towards him. “Master Harry Malfoy told me to bring you some foods because you didn’t have breakfast today, Sir,” Eric explained, his big eyes narrowing at the sight of Draco’s expression. “Master Draco Malfoy, Sir, Eric is thinking you is upset again. But Eric thought you were getting better now, Sir. Eric was thinking that Master Harry and the baby Malfoy is making you happy, Sir?” He had looked after Draco since he was a baby, he knew everything there was to know, _everything._  
  
  
  
“I am fine. Will that be all then?” Draco asked dismissively, wishing the elf would leave. But the elf didn't seem to be fooled.   
  
  
  
“But Master Draco, Sir–”  
  
  
  
“ENOUGH!” Draco screamed. “Just go!”  
  
  
  
The elf bowed then, glancing up at him worriedly. “What should I tell Master Harry Malfoy, Sir?”   
  
  
  
“Don't tell him anything. Just…thank him,” Draco said, looking at the basket on the table.  
  
  
  
“Yes, Master Draco, Sir,” Eric agreed, “but you should be wiping that lipstick off your face, Master.” He watched as Draco’s hand flew to his cheek, rubbing at the vile stain furiously. Eric nodded, “Master Harry is saying you should meet him in the kitchen when you is coming home later, Sir,” Eric informed him, before disappearing with another _pop._  
  
  
  
“Bollocks,” Draco spat, raising his hand to his face where the lipstick had soiled him. He turned to the mirror on the far wall, wiping at it with a tissue until it was gone. Thank Merlin Eric had noticed that before anyone else…  
  
  
  
His fury abated as he approached the basket and on opening it, he chuckled. _Heart shaped sandwiches?!_ Honestly. That whore was so wrong about Harry, she had no idea how amazing he was. Even the littlest of things were thought through so thoroughly. He wouldn't want anyone other than Harry carrying his child, or sharing his life with him. And he would do everything he could to be the kind of person Harry would want to stay with.  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
Harry stood back, conjuring the empty wooden casket the lobster had come in into a chair and he slid himself onto it, his hand falling unconsciously to his belly, even though it was his back and legs that were aching. He turned his wand on himself and the room next to freshen both up and banish the smell of seafood preparation. A final stasis spell on the warm table-full of delicacies was the last of his efforts and he set his wand on the side, surveying the fruits of his labour – or more accurately the fish.  
  
  
  
He’d made spaghetti with lobster and basil and the elves had made mediterannean fish cakes to go with it (which of course, he had sampled – _stupid cravings_ , he thought). The dessert made by the elves turned out to be a chocolate cream pie and he had set it away from the dinner so the fish didn’t spoil it. But now he thought he may be too exhausted for the main event of the evening…  
  
  
  
“Master Harry Malfoy shouldn’t work his body so hard when it is already hard at work making the next Malfoy!” Eric cried indignantly, the last elf remaining after Harry had dismissed the others for the evening.   
  
  
  
“I’m fine, I’m invincible,” he mused, “I’m being careful. It was just some cooking…”  
  
The elf didn’t look appeased.  
  
  
  
“Master Draco will be being very angry if Eric doesn’t take care of you and his heir, Master Harry Malfoy, Sir. And you is not just planning cooking for later.”  
  
  
  
Harry smiled, “No, you’re quite right, but it’ll be fine. If you think you’re the best nag you’re dead wrong – Draco could beat you at it with his eyes closed. Now you should leave for the evening, Draco will be home in a bit and I still need to…err…”  
  
  
  
“Add the finishing touches, Master Harry Malfoy, Sir?” Eric prompted and Harry smiled, before sending the little creature on his way.  
  
  
  
Giving his body a minute to rest, Harry got to his feet and pulled his apron off in order to escape from his clothes. It was easier said than done, the anticipation, the wondering if Draco would like his surprise (and the food) was making him all thumbs and he was panting for breath before he got the apron back on over his naked flesh. He tied it around himself. The bump ruined the sexiness of the image, Harry thought as he folded his clothes and set them at the side, out of the way, but hopefully Draco wouldn’t mind, he seemed quite fond of touching it after all.   
  
  
  
He stopped then, as he sat back in his chair to rest – and wait. He hadn’t really thought about it, since Draco had readily had him every time he’d asked since, but did he like what he looked like now? He frowned, thinking that if he outright asked, Draco would probably take offense, and then the _surprise_ would be ruined. _What you don’t know can’t hurt you,_ Harry tried to comfort himself, but then, a sharp jerk in his belly made him look down. And again. And again. He frowned at the regular, almost _rhythmic_ jumps and then it dawned on him – just as the kitchen door opened.  
  
  
  
“Draco!” Harry gasped as the blond entered, stopping him dead in his tracks. “Here! Come quick!” Draco moved to his side, the sight of the food and Harry wearing nothing but an apron lost on him at the desperation in Harry’s voice.  
  
  
  
“What’s wrong?!”   
  
  
  
“Nothing’s wrong you twit,” Harry gasped out non-offensively, yanking his hand towards his belly. “The baby has hiccups!” He stopped then, as that familiar look of contentment spread across Draco’s pale and perfect features, a dark flush riding Harry’s cheeks. “Umm…sorry, this wasn’t really the errr…the seductive introduction to your surprise that I had planned,” he murmured sheepishly, noticing Draco’s eyes were still on the jerky movements of his stomach. _Eventually,_ Harry thought with a smirk, _he’ll realise that there’s a huge meal on the table and that I’m naked under this apron…_  
  
  
  
“You're sure you're alright?” Draco asked again. Only this time with ease. Harry laughed.  
  
  
  
“Yes, I'm bloody fine!” He insisted.  
  
  
  
“Well then, do you mind explaining to me, why exactly–” Draco moved closer then, throwing his travelling cloak aside and moving to Harry. “-You're wearing nothing but a pink, frilly apron?” Harry flushed when Draco stopped but a centimetre away. He could feel his heat, even at this distance.   
  
  
  
“Ah-Ah, no touching, sit!” Harry instructed. Draco raised a brow and moved to the table, finally noticing the food.   
  
  
  
“You did this?”  
  
  
  
Harry nodded then, turning to pick up the bottle of pumpkin juice to fill their glasses. Draco eyed Harry’s perfectly shaped arse as he moved around the table.   
  
  
  
“You're laughing at me?!” Harry started. Draco lowered his head, shaking it slightly.  
  
  
  
“I'm sorry, it's just that… I've had such a shit day at work and to come home to this…”   
  
  
  
Harry silenced him then, by placing one of the fishcakes to his lips and feeding half inside, leaning in to steal the other half for himself, allowing their mouths to brush together.  
  
  
  
“I know it looks stupid, I didn’t take into account the bump when I planned this, but I tried, alright?” Harry murmured, picking up the fork and swirling it around in the spaghetti before bringing it to Draco’s mouth, unable to help that little lurch in his stomach when he saw the way those lips wrapped around the mouthful. He flushed. The baby still had hiccups, but now Harry’s own stomach was giving feeble little flips. He thought, just maybe, Draco liked his surprise. “Bad day you said?” He tried, changing the subject, “Are you alright?”  
  
  
  
Draco sucked the spagetti from his fork when Harry returned to his seat, and began to eat. “I can't beleive you're going to sit there _like that_.” Harry just smiled as he went on. “Some woman is all. I sacked her,” Draco continued, seeing Harry’s eyes widen a little. “She was one of my _one time fucks_ , (maybe more than once) but… She started mouthing off about things that I… Well you know how it is. I think she still had a thing for me, either way, I sacked her,” he explained casually.  
  
  
  
Harry watched him thoughtfully for a moment, considering his words, in fact it was such a heavy silence that Draco swallowed his last bite, looking at him incredulously.   
  
  
  
“One of your whores?” Harry asked, in a voice that betrayed nothing, with eyes that showed nothing. Draco’s breathing slowed worryingly. Harry had always been sensitive on the subject. He nodded in answer. “She came onto you,” Harry said, and though it was not a question, Draco nodded again. “And she insulted me, or the baby, or both,” Harry’s voice was so calm it was frightening, and he didn’t leave room for answer this time. “You of course refused her and I hope gave her a bloody bashing for my honour?” Now _that_ contained a light hint of amusement, and it was a question, one Draco had to answer.  
  
  
  
  
  
“Well I sacked her, didn't I?” Draco spat, chomping his food down quicker. “The food is good,” he said off-handedly, as if to change the subject. But Harry was giving him that glare and Draco sighed, placing his glass back down. “Look. I told her to fuck off, I…I hit her…” And though Draco knew that was wrong, that his frustraion was supposed to be under control, Harry was smiling.  
  
  
  
“What?”  
  
  
  
“Oh, nothing, just saves me the trouble of finding her and smacking her myself is all,” Harry said simply, seizing the nearest piece of lobster and popping it into his mouth, the taste bursting into his mouth. “Hmm, forgot what this tasted like. I only had a quick nibble at some of the leftovers last time I made this,” Harry explained distantly, tearing off a bit more. Somehow, he thought his son or daughter had inherited Ron’s appetite, those fishcakes earlier hadn’t satisfied it’s hunger. _Great, my child is going to be a greedy little porker, I should be grateful I can’t breastfeed,_ he mused, before realising Draco was waiting for him to answer in full.  
  
  
  
Harry smirked, giving a low chuckle, he quite liked the place his mood had lingered lately. “Thought she could do a better job of being Mrs Draco Malfoy did she? Wants me to abdicate my throne so she can have my place?” He reached for the pumpkin juice then, hoping to calm the baby’s hiccups.   
  
  
  
“Why, would you be jealous if I did?” Draco teased, seeing Harry flush at that statement. “Look, you don’t need to debase yourself by even thinking you have to compete with her,” Draco started quite seriously. “That’s the thing about women who play the field as much as her. You tell them no and they just cant believe their ears, cant believe someone has refused them. They even try messing with your head…” Draco smiled, the expression a little sad. “But my head has already been messed with so much that anything she could possibly say would not make the slightest difference…”  
  
  
  
Harry frowned, leaning in to take the next piece of lobster and tuck it into Draco’s lips. “We’re both pretty messed up I’d say,” Harry murmured, “So that works out nicely, doesn’t it?” Plucking the fork from Draco’s hand, Harry curled more spaghetti around the prongs before piercing a bit of lobster on the end, bringing it to his husband’s mouth. This was…nice, easy, they bickered, they fought, Harry thought that they always would but that was just part of the charm of it now, making the moments of peace that much more desirable. This was…what he wanted.  
  
  
  
Drawing the fork back, he saw a slip of spaghetti dribble down Draco’s chin and with a smirk he leant in, swiping it up with his tongue, only for the back of head to be caught roughly when he pulled away. The blond’s mouth meshed with his almost gratefully and Harry’s eyes were shining when he pulled away, tongue darting out to gather the taste of Draco off his lips unconsciously.  
  
  
  
“You’re being very cavalier about this,” Draco noted, taking up a piece of the lobster Harry seemed to be enjoying so much and putting it in his husband’s mouth, not missing the way Harry’s tongue flickered at his fingers before he drew away. Harry was being oddly playful lately.  
  
  
  
“Am I?” Harry asked, “I suppose…well there’s no point in being angry. You didn’t do anything, I know you – well things are different now. I can’t blame her for wanting you, but there’s nothing to really be annoyed about – do you want me to be pissed off?” He asked, to which Draco merely took another mouthful of fishcake. Harry then looked down to his own left hand, seeing his shining, platinum wedding band for what it meant for the first time. That they were joint together, in the same way that they were through the baby. “Think she wanted my ring?” He murmured, amused.  
  
  
  
“Most people do, it can get annoying…” Draco stated. Harry’s eyes (and confidence) wavered. “I know I’m good-looking, and I’m proud of my appearance, it’s just sometimes it attracts attention I don’t want. You should be grateful you’re so scrawny,” Draco joked. His tongue swept over his lips then and he leant closer. Grey eyes narrowed with playfulness and he fed some more spaghetti into his husband’s mouth.   
  
  
  
Draco moved his foot forward under the table and brushed his leg over Harry’s. “Don’t you agree with me?  
  
  
  
“Lots of people want me as well you know,” Harry replied flippantly. “ _Chosen One, Boy Who Lived_ and all that tripe – I could never suss out which were the fame-hunters and which were the ones that…well…wanted _me_. Why do you think I was still a virgin when you married me? I wasn’t completely ignorant of desires, of needs. I just couldn’t ever…”  
  
  
  
Harry stopped then, blinking and inhaling sharply before shaking his head to clear it of those thoughts. “I couldn’t ever trust anyone,” Harry finished simply, dipping his fork in to feed himself a piece of fishcake this time gesturing emphatically with the fork while he chewed. “So you see, if I weren’t all plump with the next generation of Malfoy, you might have a fight on your hands,” he smirked playfully, that wicked, desire, that possessiveness practically _glowing_ in Draco’s eyes. “But you never know, there may be someone that has a taste for pregnant boys and might still fight you for me.”  
  
  
  
“You were still a virgin, because you were too afraid to do anything,” Draco joked. “And maybe I would have a fight on my hands, but I’m sure I could handle it.” He paused for dramatic effect, rolling his tongue seductively around the spaghetti. “There’s no one who can suck your cock as well as I can. If you think you can do better than me I’d love to see you try.” Another pause, then Draco added, “You’re getting far too cocky.”   
  
  
  
Harry arched a brow, plucking at the last piece of lobster and popping it into his mouth, just as Draco mashed the last bit of fishcake onto his fork of spaghetti. His eyes never leaving Draco, who was still finishing his mouthful, Harry downed his glass of pumpkin juice, before getting to his feet. “The elves did make you a chocolate cream pie,” Harry explained, “But I suppose that can wait until after the main course.” And with that, he tugged at the back of the apron strings, letting it pool at his feet. “How’s that for cocky?” He breathed, leaning in to swipe at Draco’s ear with his tongue.  
  
  
  
Draco grinned. “This kind of cocky I can put up with,” He mused, pulling Harry towards him. “Maybe I can have a chocolate cream covered cock instead?” He breathed, leaning in to Harry’s ear. “Or would you prefer I fuck you over the table right now?” Harry shuddered into his touch and Draco’s cool soft hands ran over his naked back slowly when he began to caress his buttocks.  
  
  
  
“Hnn,” Harry purred, turning his head to the side and exposing the long line of his throat for Draco to nip along. “Combining dessert with dinner? The Malfoy ancestry would turn in their graves…” A sharp gasp left his lips and that mouth latched onto his straining pulse, bursting with rushing blood beneath the surface and he arched into Draco as he sucked at him like a starving vampire.   
  
  
  
Those arms wrapped around him, crushing his waist to him while the other hand seized the hair at the back of his neck, massaging his skull possessively. He didn’t care what that whore said, he didn’t need to prove anything to anyone. Harry surpassed them all without ever trying, without throwing himself at him. Just breathing in his ear, breathing at all, that was good enough.   
  
  
  
Draco tore himself from Harry’s lips long enough to snatch the dark-haired boy’s wand from the side and flick it towards the counter. “ _Evanesco_!” He chanted and the empty plate and goblets vanished, leaving the way clear to lay Harry (who was tugging clumsily at his shirt and tie) on the counter.  
  
  
  
“Hmm,” Draco growled, pressing Harry backwards so he stumbled against the counter. Harry’s hands shot out for purchase when Draco slid over him, lifting him up onto the cleared counter and sliding sliding him back on it. The blond knelt down, spreading his husband’s legs wide.   
  
  
  
With a sudden plunge he dived his tongue forward into the shuddering skin. He heard Harry cry out above, his body undulating with the waves of pleasure. Encouraged by the sight, Draco swept his tongue along the crack of Harry’s arse, mouthing his perineum all the way to his heavy balls. He wanted to taste more.  
  
  
  
“Mmh! Draco…don’t – don’t waste dessert,” he breathed, the only inspiration Draco needed before summoning the dish before dipping his fingers into the pie. He licked it off, savouring the taste before gathering more and sliding his digits into Harry’s eager mouth. Harry sucked and licked at him greedily, mimicking what Draco would have very much like to be repeated elsewhere. His cock hardened painfully in his trousers at the sound and feel of Harry slurping messily around his fingers, and he drew back then, loomingly possessively over Harry’s body.  
  
  
  
“Hmm, inside me,” Harry groaned, “S-Spread me open wide and lick it out from inside me!”  
  
  
  
“Utter pervert.” Draco reached down then, taking a scoop of the chocolate dessert and smothering it over Harry’s backside. He pressed the dessert into every curve below and then splashed the leftovers along Harry’s already rock hard erection’. “Hmm, how’s that feel, hmm? You want me to lick it off, do you?” Draco couldn’t control himself now. It felt so dirty, but so fucking hot! He had never wanted Harry as much as he did this moment. Everytime he saw him he wanted him more.  
  
  
  
Harry bucked up, holding onto the side of the counter to try and stable himself and stop from rising up into that mouth too much. “Hmmmnnnh! Lick it off, taste me, tell me – tell me what I taste like!” He panted shamelessly, his body tingling with anticipation of where Draco’s touch would begin. Hot breath steamed over the small of his back and Harry nearly creamed himself then and there.  
  
  
  
“Oh, please,” He almost whined in desperate distress, “Taste me, touch me – where no one else gets to! Please!” Why was he feeling so needy today?  
  
  
  
 _Bloody hormones._  
  
  
  
Draco dived in. With a long, pressured sweep the chocolate gathered thickly on his tongue, the spice of Harry tinting the sweetness. “Hmm, so hot, so sweet.” He delved in again, deeper, this time his tongue lashing the centre of Harry’s ring, the skin searing his tongue and clenching around his muscle greedily. The milky thighs either side if his head tensed, the cock just above his mouth jerking with molten pleasure. He breached the pink pucker at last, lapping up Harry’s choked groans as he circled the clenching orifice with the tip of his tongue, before curling inside. Licking deep. Harry’s moans were making him so fucking hard.   
  
  
  
“If you keep making those noises, I’ll… _Merlin_ , I’ll–!” He moved his tongue out then, though Harry’s clenching hole squeezed tightly in an attempt to keep him there. He dragged his mouth upwards, leaving a wet trail over the chocolate coated bollocks and pulsing shaft.   
  
  
  
“Is Mrs Harry Malfoy liking my tongue in her arse, hmm? You like the raw feeling of me fucking you with my tongue, don’t you, you slut?” Draco hissed lowly, so darkly Harry knew these words were coming from a deeper place of suppressed desire, desire that was suddenly being let loose.  
  
  
  
Harry allowed another of those low, whispy whines to leave his lips and his cock convulsed insanely at those words splashing out a huge glob of pre-emission over the countertop. “I like your tongue,” he panted, rubbing his cheek into he cool marble counter. “I like you tasting my – d-dirty places, Mr Malfoy. Play with me, use me like you want me just– _please_ … Oh Merlin…” He was squirming now, why was he so hot and needy and desperate? He swore he had never made noises like this in his life.  
  
  
  
He couldn’t seem to reel in his mouth.  
  
  
  
“M-Make me yours – from the inside out! Please, more, I can’t bear it…!” He reached behind himself, spreading his cheeks wide with his hands to leave his opening twitching like a hungry mouth, and vulnerable to Draco’s tongue.  
  
  
  
“Merlin, I love those noises, Harry, it makes my cock so fucking hard. You want me to fuck your chocolate-coated arse?” He grinned, diving back up the tip of that cock and taking the full length at last into his mouth. “Creamy,” he purred before swallowing him deep into his throat. He reached down then, palming his own stiff prick which was throbbing furiously to get out of it’s constraints.  
  
  
  
“I can’t wait…to… Can I fuck you, dirty, using the chocolate like lube?” Draco purred impatiently against his skin.  
  
  
  
Harry tossed his head, nodding furiously while his tongue worked his suddenly dry lips to coerce them into speech. “Y-Yes!” He gasped frantically, “Cover your cock with it and fuck me! _Please!_ I need it – m-make me – make me cum just from pounding my arse!” Harry demanded, spreading his legs as wide as he could to invite Draco closer. He followed the path of Draco’s hand as the man straightened, rushing out of his clothes. No sooner had the garments fallen to the floor than Draco seized a fistful of dessert and slathered his cock with it, rubbing the sugar-coated head over Harry’s twitching hole.  
  
  
  
Harry let out a gasping whimper. “N-Now – please, Draco, I don’t need anymore – I don’t need any preparation. Just fuck me, _please_!”  
  
  
  
Draco rubbed the last scoop of the chocolate pudding along himself. It smoothed over him in thick ripples that made his skin shiver delightfully and he quickly placed the swollen head against Harry’s twitching hole, pushing Harry’s thighs back and apart as far as they could go.   
  
  
  
“Oh Merlin…” He gasped as the head pressed deep into the ring, slicked with the mouth-watering dessert and popped inside. He trembled from the pressure of the sweltering, clenching heat around him. “I’m inside you!” Draco gasped, pushing himself deeper inside until the tip of his cock throbbed, lodged as deep inside as it would go. Harry’s head jerked back in a mixture of pleasure and pain, the greasy chocolate moose helping that static pain ease when Draco moved out again.   
  
  
  
“You want me to pound your prissy pregnant arse then, hmm?”  
  
  
  
Harry nodded, again frantically while he tried to make his voice work. “Hmm, Fuck me, I need it – need you,” he panted, reaching up to wrap his fingers around Draco’s, that were still supporting Harry’s legs. His cock pulsed where it lay in a messy puddle of pre-emission on his belly, as Draco moved, the sound of their choice of lube making a loud sound of thick moisture ring through Harry’s ears. He closed his eyes, turning his head to the side to bask in it, feeling Draco swell a little more within.   
  
  
  
“I – I want to cum, just from you being inside me,” he breathed again, more coherently than before, lashes parting over his green eyes and the sheen of liquid pleasure that covered them. Draco made Harry look like that, not anyone else.  
  
  
  
“Merlin, Harry, keep talking, I think I might cum just from your voice!” Draco gasped, moving quicker in him now. Draco’s head lolled on his shoulder, he hissed in pleasure the faster he got, his rhythm was erratic, constantly changing. One minute he wanted it quick and fast, the next he seemed to be falling back to make the pleasure last as long as possible.   
  
  
  
Both made Harry squirm and gasp beneath him.  
  
  
  
“I’m going to stretch your tight little arse. Make you want me more, more than you have ever wanted anything,” Draco groaned, the dizzying, building pleasure interfering with his words again.   
  
  
  
“N-Not _possible_!” Harry gasped, grinding himself back into Draco’s thrusts eagerly, heat swelling from the special place Draco was pounding roughly, sending bliss spiralling up his spine and arching up into him. Draco leant closer, hugging their bodies closer together, the blond’s hands grazing and caressing whatever he could reach, as if to leave a mark of his touch everywhere. “W-Want you! Too…too much! You’re going to…make me…burst!”  
  
  
  
The slaps of Draco’s balls against his arse, the buzz when their skin brushed together, it was all too much. It was all falling away. Everything seemed to be melting around them, blurring into nothingness. Draco’s cock pulsed madly. “Bloody…hell, I want you…I want…you so much!” Draco gasped, not knowing which way to turn his head and settled with it looking at Harry’s stomach.   
  
  
  
His hips jerked frantically, his cock hot and delving inside. He so wanted to take Harry’s cock and start rubbing it, but he resisted. Harry had said he didn’t want that. “Fuck… _fuck_ …!” Draco groaned, leaning close now, the sweat slicking his skin dripping onto Harry’s. He swore he heard it sizzle like oil on a hot stove. Their lips slid together then, both gasping into the other’s mouth frantically as they rolled their hips together.  
  
  
  
“Hmm, show me, show me you want me! Show me you need me, more than anything!” Harry demanded huskily, his hands flying up to knot in Draco’s hair to resist from stroking his aching, leaking cock. He was so close, he’d thought he could do this many a time before when Draco had only grabbed at his cock the last minute. But the swollen, soft place in his arse was sending jolts of sheer ecstasy up his body. He was so close…  
  
  
  
“I’m – I’m going to cum!” He cried out into Draco’s mouth as he tried to kiss him between the rabid thrusts. A line of saliva linked their tongues as they panted into each other and every muscle in Harry’s body tensed. “Oh shit, I’m going to cum from having you in me! Draco! Feels so – so good!” At that moment Draco’s mouth savaged his at his words and Harry’s cock convulsed, spitting his sharp, thundering climax up in between their united bodies. Harry gasped, closing his eyes as oblivion tore through him, his whole body so hot he swore they were fucking on the stove. His mind went hazy. There was nothing beyond Draco’s voice, his touch and the sweet sticky sound of his body being worshipped.  
  
  
  
Draco’s own body felt feather-light, thrown into a hazy oblivion. His entire being felt completely separate from the rest of the physical world, as if he revolved around Harry instead of the earth. His cock thickened and his balls felt heavy. “I want you. I bloody want you, so much, m-more than I’ve ever wanted anything. His belly jerked then, fiercely hot at the sight of Harry’s own cum staining his stomach. His hips pressed flush to Harry and he spilled himself deep inside, his mind spiralling with nonsensical, fanciful words and feelings…   
  
  
  
“I…love you!” He panted into Harry’s haphazard locks. Laying frantic kisses in his hair, Draco grinded against him in the glowing aftermath, spending his sticky seed in Harry’s body until their bodies ached with gratification.   
  
  
  
Harry hummed quietly as he felt Draco hover over him for a moment, his cock still pulsing, spilling inside of him. He blinked a few times until the world came back into proper focus and ran the flat of his palm up and down the plate of Draco’s toned chest, where his heart beat wildly beneath, without really realising.  
  
  
  
Draco surveyed him then, a post-orgasmic sheen moistening his eyes while he looked at him, as if he were the only soul in the universe. And then, he moved, sitting back in the chair and pulling Harry up slowly to sit on the edge of the counter just in front of him.  
  
  
  
The image exceeded the sight of that slut that had perched herself thusly with her breasts on full view, it exceeded it a thousand-times over, bump or not. Harry smiled dazedly at him, still panting heavily. It was taking him longer and longer for him to get his breath back recently, but it seemed to be worth it – the crystal vial that always hung around his neck was dull and colourless. Harry was completely content, if only for now.  
  
  
  
“Y-You…” He paused, waiting for his breath to calm and then tried again. “You got rid of it’s hiccups,” he said softly with a small laugh punctuating his words as he laid a hand on his stomach. “Such a good father,” he mused and without thinking, Draco’s hand shot out to lay next to his. Harry jumped at the fast movement, and Draco almost recoiled – almost, before Harry’s fingers landed over his, pinning his warm palm over his cool stomach. “N-No, it’s alright, you just made me jump.” Draco seemed skittish all of a sudden, he thought, lowering his eyes to where there hands lay together over the bump. He flushed darkly. They never held hands…  
  
  
  
A long moment of silent fell between them, and Harry inhaled deeply as his heart calmed and he peered up from under his lashes at Draco – apprehensive. “You said you loved me,” Harry said quietly, as if afraid Draco would explode at the mention of it, “You’ve said it before, but not _to_ me, _about_ me. Did you mean it?”  
  
  
  
Draco looked away from him then, his pride rendering him unable to look him in the eyes. He inhaled carefully, but Harry had already stolen his breath, his heart, everything… It was hard to breathe.  
  
  
  
“If I said yes, would it make things more difficult?” He asked, indirectly answering him. He looked back then, raising his hand to Harry’s face. But the look on his own was a sad, distant one.  
  
  
  
Harry swallowed, his cheek tingling under Draco’s touch and he couldn’t help but tilt his head into the warmth a little. “Why would it be difficult to know that…my husband loved me?” Harry asked, his voice quiet and uncertain of where Draco might take this. He didn’t want to argue. He didn’t want the oddly warm feeling in his stomach to go away. “How would it make things difficult, to know that…that the person whose…whose… _baby_ is inside of me cares about me, _loves_ me just as much as he loves it?”  
  
  
  
He had been so unsure before, Ginny and Ron and the others, even Lucius had put thoughts in his head. Did Draco care about him outside of his precious cargo? Now he knew, for there was no way Draco would risk his pride in saying it if he didn’t mean it…  
  
  
  
“Are you an idiot?” Draco started. “You’re leaving after our child is born…you…” But he paused then. Thinking about it, what difference did that make, really? Harry’s absence wouldn’t make the feelings stop. His tongue darted across his lips as he gathered his breath and his words. “I suppose you will…might…feel guilted into staying and that’s not what I want,” he explained. Draco wanted him to stay, because he wanted to. Harry seemed utterly confused now though, the illumiglass around his neck shining a brilliant blue with uncertainty and pain.  
  
  
  
Draco swallowed hard, willing that pain to disappear. “I…I probably just said it in the rising passion of it all as I came…” He tried.  
  
  
  
Harry’s eyes flashed with hurt and he almost cried out, _‘No!’_ at the top of his lungs. _Make me stay, ask me to stay, please, just once…just once!_ He turned his head, avoiding looking in those eyes. “You’re lying, you meant it,” Harry whispered, his voice cracked and rigid with reasoning, as if he were trying to convince himself not Draco. “You _did_ mean it…” He blinked, _hard_ – he’d be damned if he cried. Pushing himself gently off the countertop, he seized his wand. “ _Tergeo_!” He chanted, the semen and other stains leaving his body and he turned his back on Draco, unable to look at him as he hurried into his clothes, suddenly very conscious that he was naked.   
  
  
  
The blond watched as Harry redressed himself hurriedly, the vial around his neck dazzlingly bright – he was upset. “It’s just an arrangement isn’t it?” Draco asked, uncertainty in his voice as he tried to assuage the lump in his throat by swallowing again. He must being going mad if he was thinking Harry actually had wanted him to say that. He wasn’t thinking straight, this wasn’t what Harry wanted.  
  
  
  
 _Merlin, this obsession is going to kill me,_ Draco thought. He gradually leant down, mind still swirling with thoughts as he picked up his own clothes, pulling them on with confusion. “A-Are you okay?”  
  
  
  
“Fine,” Harry replied, doing up his buttons wrong twice and growling in frustration. He was not fine. _Selfish little prick,_ he scolded himself, _you don’t have a clue what you feel for him but you want him to feel love for you anyway? Want him to ask you to stay? How selfish are you?!_ He winced at his own thoughts, so lost in his self-berating that he didn’t realise Draco had come closer and jumped when those hands reached for his buttons, doing them up the correct way to save him frustration. Harry looked away quickly, but Draco had already seen.  
  
  
  
“Are you crying?”  
  
“No!” Harry declared. “I – I’m fine, just something…something in my eye.” And a sharp object wedged in his throat by the sound of it. “I err…was…was it alright? The surprise, I mean?” He asked, trying to direct Draco’s attention away from his stinging eyes.  
  
  
  
Grabbing Harry by the wrist, Draco whirled him around to face him, leaning in and planting a kiss upon those quivering lips. “It was fine,” he assured him, his hot breath dusting Harry’s cheeks when he drew away. “Now, enough of this crying, alright?” He murmured uncomfortably, raising his hand to brush the tear that had fallen from Harry’s cheek. He wasn’t sure why Harry was upset, but part of him didn’t feel right to push for answers. So he didn’t.  
  
  
  
“I-I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but I… The dinner, it was really nice. I’ve never had someone cook me something like that before. I’ve never had someone cook just for me _ever_.”  
  
  
  
Harry stared at him in dumb surprise. “Never? Not even…?” But he stopped himself then. Draco hadn’t had girlfriends or boyfriends, he’d had whores, and his mother hadn’t cooked – with him or for him, they’d had elves for that. Harry gave a small nod, his words escaping before he could think better on them.  
  
  
  
“I like to cook – I had to a lot for the Dursleys but that wasn’t the same, and when I lived on my own it was… It’s nicer to cook _for_ someone,” he rambled, leaning down and picking Draco’s trousers and shirt up, handing them back to him. “Maybe I’ll cook for you and the baby at some point,” he murmured, turning his attention (and his wand) to the messed they’d made and quickly cleaning the chaos they had created.  
  
  
  
But when he turned back to Draco, the blond had an odd look in his eyes. “I didn’t err…thank you, by the way, for today. You defended me even though it probably would have been more favourable for you not to. I… Thanks. And for not breaking your promise too, it…it means…means a lot.” _But I can’t tell you, or even myself why it means a lot,_ Harry mentally added.  
  
  
  
Draco nodded, still looking uncomfortable with Harry’s distress. “You’re my husband after all. More than that, you’re important to me. I wasn’t about to let some bitch have her say and walk away,” Draco assured him, deciding not to put his tie back on having left his shirt unbuttoned. Desperate for some distraction, he plucked the hairtie from his pocket and brushed his hands through his locks, binding them back.  
  
  
  
Harry smiled distantly, his mouth opening for speech, but before Draco could see it, it snapped shut again and Harry’s bladder twinged. How could he need to pee so suddenly?! “Err,” Harry began sheepishly, “I need to use the loo, shall I meet you upstairs?”  
  
  
  
Draco (obviously withholding a smirk) just nodded, and Harry moved over to the door, but as soon as he had it open, he stopped.  
  
  
  
“Strawberries,” he said suddenly, looking back to a bewildered Draco.  
  
  
  
“What?”  
  
  
  
“I…can you bring strawberries up with you? I really want strawberries!” But he cut his request short then, only seeing Draco’s smirk before he darted out of the room and bolted for the main foyer and in turn, the main staircase. Nature was calling very urgently. He would have to take more notice of his bladder, he thought as he reached the top of the stairs, he wouldn’t be fit enough to run to the loo in just a few weeks. He grimaced at the thought of being too fat to pee standing up and wondered just how big he would get – being a boy, but then, a flash of golden locks and a shadow stepped across his path. And he froze inside.  
  
  
  
“Lucius,” he said, wishing he had not asked Draco for strawberries. His husband would have been closer behind him, would have been closer at hand had his cravings not gotten the better of him…  
  
  
  
Hiding away had made him careless, he had forgotten just what they were being so cautious about.  
  
  
  
“Harry,” Lucius crooned, slithering towards him, backing him into a corner. “How is the child?” He asked lowly, that piercing, stony glare making goosebumps rise on Harry’s skin. As Harry went to part his lips in response, the older blond man lifted his gloved hand to those lips to stop them before speech. Harry flinched, his hand edging towards his pocket…  
  
  
  
“A small bird tells me, my son might actually have fired Freya because of you,” he said simply, “I hate to think that you are now interfering with my son’s career, his _future_. It is worrying that he might begin to give others a bad impresssion by sticking up for you. I would hate to think what might come your way in terms of punishment…”  
  
  
  
Harry flinched at the statement, backing tentatively into the wall. There was no way  that he was letting that man get within touching distance again. His back met the barrier of the wall and he went rigid his hand creeping to his side, curling around his wand.  
  
   
  
 “I'm his husband, it's his job to protect me, just as it's mine to protect him,” Harry sneered hotly, not allowing this man to bully him. He had his wand this time, he wasn't afraid. “I've faced scarier monsters than you, Lucius Malfoy,” Harry said plainly. He wasn't afraid of an ex-death eater that empowered himself by controlling his only son. “You won't have me cowering like a child, nor Draco, either. We're not yours to control.”  
  
  
  
“Is that what you honestly think, Harry?” Lucius purred in an omniously calm, chilling tone. “What will you do, a little magic, hmmm?” Lucius laughed then. “I am not trying to control you, stupid boy. Merely trying to assist my son in what is right. This whole marriage was a disaster, you should be grateful I have covered this shame up as well as I have.” Lucius leant in then, his vile breath dusting over Harry’s ear.  
  
  
  
“This whole marriage was to save your assets you stupid twit,” Harry hissed, he wouldn’t let Lucius know that the contract was faked between Snape and his own wife. He had a nasty feeling that Narcissa would pay for such a _‘crime’_. “Your son is happy with me, happier than he ever was without – with you lurking over his shoulder, hovering around him like a bad smell. I set him free of you, _Mr Malfoy_ , and you loathe me because of it!” Harry shoved the hand wielding the cane away from him, shifting to stalk away from the man’s presence, but a hard pressure on his chest kept him against the wall.  
  
  
  
“Such haste, Harry,” Lucius hissed, pushing Harry’s chin up so that those defiant green eyes glared up at him warningly, while the hard, unyielding, diamond-encrusted snake-head slid down Harry’s chest to pressure his stomach – just enough to make a point. “You are marvellously easy to subdue when something you treasure is threatened, Harry,” Lucius smirked, caressing the soft bump menacingly. “At this point, the child is right below your navel. So easy to damage…”  
  
  
  
Harry’s arm swept up then, his wand jamming hard into the blond’s jugular. “Draco would kill you,” Harry snarled, with more venom than the basilisk. “And then I’d fucking resurrect you and kill you slower!”  
  
  
  
“You honestly think my son would have the guts to front me? His own father? Do not be obsurd!” Lucius drew his cane up then, pushing the polished shaft forecefully into Harry’s neck so he could barely breathe. The only thing that stilled Harry’s hand was the search for a spell to cause as minimal damage as possible. This was _still_ Draco’s father…  
  
  
  
Lucius sneered. “You will not live to see this child–”   
  
  
  
“That’s enough!” A voice cried from just down the hall. Walking out into the looming shadows of the dying afternoon, Draco let the bowl of strawberries fall from his hand in utter shock. He had known his father had hurt Harry, but he had yet to see it with his own eyes. Until now. Draco darted between them, drawing himself up in front of Harry, his eyes hard and dark, despite the way his belly quivered when he faced his father. When he opposed his father.  
  
  
  
Harry gasped for breath, his hand flying to his own throat, rubbing it as air flooded his lungs. His hands remained tightly in his grasp, but he remained quiet, Draco had to do this alone. Lucius let a wicked smirk touch his lips, taking a step forward to caress the side of Draco’s face with the cane with menacing tenderness. “So brazen your little pet is, my son,” Lucius cooed, “You should keep it on a shorter leash, it may get a little…” His eyes moved slowly to Harry, “… _lost_.”  
  
  
  
Draco did not flinch, did not tense, did not even he breathe. He stood as still as stone, as if his father were invisible to him. Harry quirked a brow at the bemusment on Lucius’s features – apparently Draco’s indifference was working. The Malfoy elder leant in further, to push Harry’s chin up with a finely gloved finger and thumb, tilting his face to the light of the green, serpent-shaped sconces. “Perhaps you would care for my hand in your little pet’s discipline – you’ll remember my techniques are successful, surely?”  
  
  
  
Suddenly, Draco’s hand shot up to bat the hand that had grasped Harry’s chin away. And then Draco’s wand was up, between his father and him, and Harry.  
  
  
  
“ENOUGH!” Draco bellowed. Chills ran down his spine, his voice shook. “Keep away!” Draco moved Harry aside then as Lucius moved in, glaring darkly into his son’s eyes. Harry watched awkwardly. Draco looked so _cold_. His skin seemed to be so pale it was almost white. Lucius’s hand came up again, only this time Draco’s lips, where he brushed his finger over the bottom one thoughtfully.   
  
  
  
Draco eyes widened and it took a moment for him to escape the instinctive way his body droze at the touch. But he lurched backwards all the same. “Because…I haven't forgotten them, _any of them_.” Draco’s outstretched arm seemed to steel then, the wand in his hand digging sharply into his fathers neck.   
  
  
  
“Don't think I won't!” Draco warned.  
  
  
  
Lucius’s evil smile never failed and his cruel eyes flicked back to Harry with amused malice before he backed away, his hands in the air mockingly, feigning surrender. “My perfect little killer,” Lucius hissed dangerously, “I taught you well, and perhaps when the time comes you may finally have the backbone to do it.” He gave a low chuckle then, before swatting Draco’s wand uselessly out of his hand. “But not today, my son.” And with that, Lucius departed, leaving Harry and Draco rigidly watching his retreating form.   
  
  
  
When the shadows had swallowed him, Draco stooped, slowly, silently and plucked his wand from the ground. Harry watched him for a moment, before reaching forwards and wrapping his arms around Draco from behind. He pressed his nose into the nape of his neck, inhaling softly.  
  
  
  
“I'm sorry,” Draco said lowly. Harry remained quiet. Small panting breaths danced over Draco’s shoulder as he turned to face Harry and pull him close, embracing him. He was sure Harry could feel his own heart racing madly against him, but he didn't care. When he held him like this, he was sure Harry was safe. _I wish we could hold each other like this more often,_ Draco thought melting into those arms. And yet, even though he was Harry’s protector, right now, he felt more like those arms were protecting him.  
  
  
  
“I got your strawberries,” Draco started. “Though they are a bit squashed now. Some of them survived,” he assured him, noticing that some had remained in the bowl.  
  
  
  
Harry laughed softly pressing his cheek into Draco’s hair and squeezing him a little before finally (reluctantly) drawing away. “It’s alright,” Harry murmured, plucking up the bag and magically banishing the spilled contents. “And don’t apologise for something you didn’t do. You – you saved me didn’t you?” He stated, and then his gaze dropped to the remaining fruit. “Thanks, for the strawberries.” When he glanced back up, Draco’s gaze was shadowed with doubt, with fear and a frown twisted Harry’s brow.   
  
  
  
This problem with Lucius Malfoy would need to be solved, it couldn’t go on like this. But it was delicate. Lucius was a powerful man, in more ways than just his outer influences, and more than that, Draco wasn’t ready now. _Lucius can ruin everything if we provoke him, if we act too soon,_ Harry thought, his hand travelling the length of Draco’s arm until his fingers wrapped around Draco’s hand, tugging him in the direction of their rooms.  
  
  
  
 _I’ll deal with him,_ Harry thought darkly, never able to return to the softness of the person he had been before he had killed Voldemort – however inadvertently. _I’ll make him sorry, and he’ll be nothing more than a bad dream._  
  
  
  
“Are you alright?” Harry asked as Draco shut the door behind them, crossing the room to slump down in the couch before the fire, which had blasted to life the moment they had entered. Harry followed him, perching on the footstool in front of his parted legs and setting the strawberries on the coffee table beside him. He stared up into the shadows of Draco’s face, reaching up to brush aside the curtain of golden hair to stare unhindered into those grey eyes. “Tell me,” Harry prompted softly.  
  
  
  
“Y-Yeah…I…” Draco stopped then. With such intense eyes on him, staring into him at that moment, he couldn't help but feel his cheeks flush. “Yeah, I'm fine,” He said, raising his hand up behind Harry’s head to tickle the hairs at the back of his neck. He grabbed one of the strawberries Harry had set aside and pressed it to Harry’s lips then.   
  
  
  
“Open.”  
  
  
  
Harry smiled, parting his lips readily and wrapping them around the fruit, as well as the tip of Draco’s fingers briefly, before they drew back. “You’re getting good at this, you know, Draco Malfoy,” Harry mused softly, watching Draco’s brows ascend up behind his blond fringe in confusion. “Taking care of me,” Harry elaborated, “if you were on my side at Hogwarts I might not have gotten into quite as many scuffles.” When he saw the smallest of smiles reach Draco’s lips, Harry leant in closer, wrapping his arms around Draco’s shoulders.  
  
  
  
“I’m…I’m going to take care of you, as well,” he promised, feeling Draco slump against his body, those hands knotting in the back of his shirt, as if his worst fear would be to have him torn from him right then.  
  
  
  
“T-That’s comnforting to know,” Draco admitted, his pride stifling any other sappy response he might have wished to utter. There was a light flush to his pale cheeks, but behind it all, he wasn't smiling, wasn’t as at ease. Knowing that one day this would end, knowing one day he would have to let go of him. He buried those thoughts as deep as he could, just as he buried his head deeper into Harry’s shouder, feeling oddly safe in his arms. He just wished he could always have this. This warmth, this glow.  
  
  
  
Then, a sad chuckle left Draco’s lips. Harry squeezed him tighter. “What is it?” He asked.  
  
  
  
“No wonder they call you the bloody chosen one,” Draco replied softly.  
  
  
  
  
  
 _~To Be Continued..._


	17. Restless

[Seventeen]  
  
 **Restless**  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Harry fiddled absently with the tassled frindge of his old comfy Gryffindor scarf. He’d kept it, and he wore it now despite being a good few years out of Hogwarts. The sight of the old red and gold and the feel of it’s warmth, the smell around him eased him somewhat. He felt an inner smirk rise up at the memory of Draco’s distinct sneer that morning when they’d made to leave and Harry had put it on. But the smile did not reach his lips.  
  
  
  
They were back again, the whitewash walls and the gold lacing the familiar waiting room, with that same, nosy receptionist pretending to be scrawling away at the desk when in reality, her hawk-like eyes shot up every time Draco or he even _breathed_ loudly. _Probably going to report to the paparazzi that my own bloody husband held my hand in the waiting room – probably spin some tragic story that the baby is ill or something,_ he mentally griped, but that was not what had inspired this…uneasiness in his belly.   
  
  
  
He peered up under his lashes at Draco then, whose eyes were fixed on the edge of the clear-glass coffee table in front of them – staring, but not really seeing. _He looks nackered,_ Harry thought, a little guilt creeping up his throat. But he knew that, for once, he was not the only thing depriving Draco of rest, it was the blond’s own subconscious that was depriving him of sleep…  
  
  
  
Usually, it was Harry who would be plagued by nightmares, by dreams so dark and familiar that he’d fly awake screaming. But the last few days, Draco had been the one to stir in the night, the one to cry out, and the one to hurriedly say it was nothing, before turning him back to sleep – but not before wrapping his arms tightly around Harry.  
  
  
  
 _What’s he dreaming about?_ Harry wondered, as they waited, concern ebbing away at him. _And why only in the last few days? He’s never had nightmares since we shared a bed._  
  
  
  
Draco yawned a little, holding his hand over his exhausted lips. Finally, he snapped back from the daze he had fallen prey to. “I'm not sure I'm up for this today,” Draco started, “I know you're the one who is pregnant but I feel like there's a layer of acid at the bottom of my stomach.” Draco sat up a little straighter in his seat, determined not to curl in on himself despite the nausea. He had been swamped with this trembling anxiety of late, and he was frustratingly aware that Harry had become more concerned for his welfare than his own.   
  
  
  
“It’s probably just stress,” Draco said, trying to assuage Harry’s concerns.  
  
  
  
Harry gave a small nod, wishing he could believe him. “We find out whether it's a boy or a girl today, maybe that's what has you all fidgety,” he tried, but he had a strong feeling that Draco’s unease stemmed from something much more sinister than the gender of their child. _And everything to do with Lucius,_ his mind supplied. The man had been present at the dinner table of late, but said little and when he did they were sideways pricks at Draco or Harry, and then, after every meal he would vanish into the labyrinth of the manor, like a proverbial vampire lurking in the shadows, waiting to strike.  
  
  
  
It struck Harry as odd, that Draco would risk their safety simply for the sake of keeping the dark secret about him and his father from Narcissa. Even if it looked as if Lucius was biding his time for now, it felt… _wrong_ to be _living_ so casually with someone who wanted to hurt them.  
  
  
  
 _Then again_ , Harry thought, _the Malfoys did house Voldemort during the war._ Yes, they had housed more powerful and menacing evil in the past than Lucius Malfoy, he was sure. It didn’t make him feel any better about it though.   
  
  
  
_It won't always be like this,_ Harry reasoned. He won't always be looming over our heads. He tipped his head with that thought wondering how this would all end – for Draco. Lucius was still his father after all. How would he feel, should fate force his hand toward darker solutions? Seeking to eradicate the uneasy swell in Draco’s stomach, Harry’s hand travelled to him. His fingers brushed over the blond's knuckles tentatively – reasurringly. “You've never once mentioned what you'd prefer, a boy or girl,” he said.  
  
  
  
“I…” Draco blushed then, his mind clearing of all self-effacing thought. “I haven't really thought about which I'd prefer. I'll be happy either way, I’d…I’d feel bad to hope for one and end of with the other,” he explained. Harry’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline at that, a little surprised by this raw humanity. It was nice to hear Draco speak that way…  
  
  
  
“What? Why are you looking at me like that? Just staring?”  
  
  
  
“Nothing I just…I was so certain that you’d be praying for a boy to carry on the family name and everything,” Harry explained, the astonishment lingering on his face. “I’m just…surprised, that’s all.” On cue (as ever) O’Dempsy’s door opened, her previous patients departing happily before she beckoned Harry and Draco in. The same pale, brightly lit room that had the same sterile scent as any muggle hospital.   
  
  
  
There was no standing on ceremony this time, Harry moved directly over to the white bedding, laying flat on it and lifting his Weasley jumper off of his stomach. O’Dempsy looked from him and then to Draco warily, as if not trusting Harry’s sudden eagerness. “Good day Harry, Mr Malfoy,” she murmured, tipping her head to both as that familiar scroll appeared out of thin air, the quill on the desk jumping to life and scribbling frantically as she maneuvered her wand over Harry’s body (obviously checking him over).  
  
  
  
“How have you been feeling of late, Mr Malfoy?” She asked Harry directly, though not meeting her eyes, and Draco came to stand by Harry’s head. Harry shrugged, an odd, fluttering wave of impatience rippling through him. He wished she’d hurry up.  
  
“I’ve been alright, lots of weird cravings though…”  
  
The woman smiled. “Have you felt it’s movements? You are built quite differently from a woman so the movements should be more obvious than they would for a woman having her first, at this stage.”  
  
  
  
Harry flushed furiously, not liking being compared to a woman – at all – ever. He was still rather sheepish about the memory of Draco giving him that polyjuice and fucking him as a girl. And he didn’t like it when Draco dubbed him with those feminine _‘endearments’_ during sex either. His cheeks were aflame with a dark flush and he turned his head to the vacant wall, waiting for her to cast the spell to bring the image there.   
  
  
  
“Yeah,” Harry murmured, “We’ve felt it, it’s a busy little thing…”  
  
“Indeed,” she smirked, “It may feel as if you have swallowed a bludger at a later date.” Harry swallowed warily, not liking the sound of that but his concern was cut short as she lay her cold hand on his stomach – he jumped. No one touched him, not ever, especially not without permission!  
  
  
  
“Please, don’t!” Harry insisted, Draco frowning in confusion. “I – I don’t like people… _touching_ ,” he tried to explain, but the woman merely raised a brow.  
  
“You are aware that physical contact, particularly with the father – the paternal father, is good for the child?”  
  
  
  
Harry’s face twisted with awkwardness. He didn’t know why, her hands on him just felt… _wrong_. “I didn’t know that. But Draco does touch – a lot I just don’t – don’t like… Can we just get on with this?” He prompted. He had flown in here in a good mood (pretty much) but he was reminded swiftly why he didn’t like this woman.   
  
  
  
“I was merely assessing you, Mr Malfoy, do not behave so ridiculously,” she admonished, casting her golden charm to light the wall with the live, shadowy image of the baby in his belly. Beside him, Draco (like every other time) stopped breathing for a moment, the air hitching in his throat and his body falling deathly still. And, as ever, he was oddly quiet…  
  
  
  
“Here you see,” she said, her tone soft when she addressed Draco this time, an arrogant silkiness that only Harry seemed to notice gracing her voice. “Your little one is nearly half a pound. It is still going through it’s rapid growth phase, so you must help your husband with the necessary oils and potions if you want to avoid stretch marks…”  
  
  
  
Harry’s face wrinkled, but he kept his eyes fixed on the image this time, trying to shut her voice out. She kept talking, explaining little details that they couldn’t see, but Harry barely registered any of it, though Draco was still with rapt attention. And then, at last, Harry’s impatience overpowered his determination to _behave_ (as Draco had put it).   
  
  
  
“You are nearly half-way through the pregnancy,” she was still addressing Draco explicitly, which irked Harry some. Draco wasn’t the one that was pregnant…  
  
  
  
“Your husband may feel less movement at times (despite his being more sensitive to the movements as a man) since the infant spends as much time awake as asleep. Hair is starting to grow on it’s–”  
  
  
  
“Can you tell us if it’s a boy or a girl?” Harry interrupted at last, shifting up slightly on his elbows to look between his glowing stomach and the image on the wall. Draco seemed to jerk from his reverie at the words. “I think we want to know – I’d like not to call the baby an ‘it’ anymore.”  
  
  
  
“Of course,” she said slowly, almost patronisingly. “But I have to just run through these procedures first, it's standard.”  
  
  
  
Harry rolled his eyes at her as she continued to babble about minute, confusing statistics. Figures that he didn't care for, they put him on edge…  
  
  
  
“I have taken a scan,” she said at last to Draco, “Would you like the imprint, firstly?” She offered, noting that the first time, Draco had kept it, this time Harry nodded. This time he wanted the scan for himself. O’Dempsy seemed to be irritatingly surprised at that, perhaps pleased but it did not prevent her nose from turning up every time she was forced to on him.  
  
  
  
“Were you hoping for any sex in particular?” She asked. Both of them nodded. Draco seemed to be twiddling his thumbs anxiously whereas Harry was deathly still.  
  
  
  
“Well let’s see then, shall we?” She said, the little polaroid-like image (that they recognised from before) appearing on the desk. The Healer plucked the picture up, before coming back over to hand Draco the moving sonogram image. The light in Harry’s belly faded and he sat up, all-too cautious of his body at that moment and moved over to hover over Draco’s shoulder.  
  
  
  
“It’s sucking it’s thumb,” Harry said in a mixture of soft surprise and awe, and he was sure he _sensed_ Draco’s flicker of a smile.   
  
  
  
“And I hope you will be pleased to know that you are expecting a little girl.”  
  
  
  
Harry’s head instinctively moved to Draco before his own reaction even began to register in his head.  
  
  
  
Draco smiled, surprising Harry a little. “That’s good,” he said. He wasn't sure how to react, a mixture of emotions were filling him. Until now, he knew he'd be a father, but this combined with the recent movement, it certainly struck it home. There was a real little person in there. He felt overwhelmed.  
  
  
  
“You don't seem overly thrilled?” O’Dempsy enquired towards Draco.  
  
  
  
“No, I am, more than thrilled. I’m simply…a little lost for words is all,” Draco assured her and more importantly, Harry.  
  
  
  
She looked at Harry then. “And what about you?”  
  
  
  
Harry turned his head to her, shaken from his thoughts (his concerns for Draco). “It’s brilliant!” He said sincerely, “I umm…not really sure what to do with a girl but I’m certain I wouldn’t know what to do with _any_ baby to start but – but she’s ours,” Harry continued, looking back to Draco again. “She’s ours so that’s all the matters isn’t it?” Those grey eyes searched his, as if desperate to confirm something and then, his pale face relaxed slowly.  
  
  
  
Harry smiled, trying to incite one from his recently uneasy, distracted husband. “She’ll probably be all proud and pointy like you,” he teased.  
  
  
  
“Pointy?” Draco gasped in indignation.   
  
  
  
O’Dempsy smiled thoughtfully. “This is the first time I've seen you both interact this way. Casually. Like a normal couple.”  
  
  
  
Draco flushed a little at that statement, Harry too seemed to be turning red, but Draco leapt back into his previous accusation, in an attempt to assuage the awkwardness filling the room suddenly. “I-If anything she will have youre scrawny knees and pitiful eyesight!” Draco spat.  
  
  
  
Harry smirked widely. “You mean a Malfoy could be born anything less than perfect?” Harry gasped with mock horror, grateful to have a reaction out of his husband at last. He didn’t like seeing him so…vacant. Draco was a proud, arrogant, flamboyant person – it was just _wrong_ for him to be so subdued. “Is that all for today?” He asked O’Dempsy then, starting to get fidgety sitting there under her calculating gaze.  
  
  
  
She gave him a knowing look, plucking some leaflets off the side and handing them to Harry. “I suggest you start preparing yourself for the harder months now. Male pregnancies have a tendancy to end prematurely also, so it’s best to be prepared.”   
  
  
  
Harry swallowed hard, honestly having pushed the negatives of this whole situation from his mind since he’d felt the baby move…  
  
  
  
“You may contact me in the event of an emergency, of course,” she said, looking to Harry at last. “Try to take it easy on your body once you enter the 3rd trimester. Let your husband take care of you, that’s his job for the next three or four months.”  
  
  
  
Flushing darkly at that, Harry lowered his head as they left the room, glad that the baby didn’t seem to be suffering any for his constant bouts of stress and anxiety. His worst nightmare was walking in this room one day and hearing the worst. “I suppose she’s resilient like the two of us,” Harry said aloud, without really meaning to as Draco directed him into the floo. “We’ve both been through a lot and we’re still…well… _functioning_ , right?” But Draco seemed distracted again. Harry wrinkled his nose as he stepped into the fireplace, Draco’s arm encircling him, drawing him closer as he threw the powder into the grate.  
  
  
  
“Are you sure you’re alright?” Harry asked again as they arrived in their own chambers, sweeping off his travelling cloak and hanging it over the back of the couch – just before collapsing into it. He watched Draco carefully still, noting that the blond was still standing by the fire, and that he wasn’t taking his cloak off. “What’s the matter? What can I do for you? Please, tell me?” He wished he could care enough about the way his voice sounded so…desperate, wished that he could push the anxiety from his words, but he couldn’t. There was something wrong…  
  
  
  
Draco slumped into the chair, struggling to keep the dark void of his mind from swallowing him whole. “I'm just…” He flinched, his hands curling into tense fists at his sides. _How can I tell him that I'm having nightmares? He has enough to worry about._ No, he couldn’t tell Harry, couldn’t burden him with his problems any more than he already had. But he could distract himself…  
  
  
  
He found a smile to wear then, patting the seat in a silent request for Harry to move closer. “I'm tired recently, but I'm alright,” he assured him. “I just have a lot on my mind, thats all.” He studied Harry’s face for a moment, trying to see if his husband believed him, but he couldn’t tell. “Come on, sit. You need to look after yourself,” Draco reminded him.  
  
  
  
Harry walked around and sat beside him, the already roaring fire in the hearth sending blissful waves of warmth across his skin. “I…i like this,” Draco breathed as Harry seated himself, “Sitting with you like this.” His hand slid across Harry’s leg then, rubbing him gently, a casual, tender touch. Something he was privileged enough to do now, it made him smile a little more.  
  
  
  
When had he become this person? So vulnerable and yet hard at the same time, so completely concerned with Harry’s welfare alone. So completely full of emotion. If he had tried to admit that to Harry a few months ago the words would have stuck in his throat.   
  
  
  
Harry leant in closer, pressing his nose into the side of Draco’s neck and that hand caressed him more bravely. “Yeah…it’s nice,” he agreed, closing his eyes and feeling the unease ebb from his body. “You’re…I really like this too.” His cheeks suffused with the colour of embarrassment but he felt immune to it with his eyes closed, and his body tensed with anticipation of further warmth as Draco’s other arm snuck around his body, stroking his side comfortingly, before gliding up to touch his hair.  
  
  
  
 _Oh, you’re such a girl, Potter,_ a very Draco-like voice admonished. _Look at you, curling up on his lap like a neglected kitten._ But he didn’t care, not when it felt so nice.  
  
  
  
“You’ll have to tell your mother that she’s going to have a granddaughter, she’s missed you,” Harry said softly, drowsiness overcoming him slightly. “And Snape too, they love you, Draco. How can you stay angry at them when they’ve given us something so amazing?”  
  
  
  
Draco felt his cheeks heat up, those feelings close to overwhelming him again. “I – I know,” he agreed huskily, not really caring to shatter the serene atmosphere by elaborating. Everything felt calm. It was nice to feel this…this content. This safe. “It is beautiful,” Draco agreed absently, thinking about how happy he felt all of a sudden. But then, the warmth was drowned suddenly in a pit of ice when he remembered, that this would end in a few short months. He hated that these lovely moments were always taken from him, just by a drifting thought.   
  
  
  
Draco pulled Harry in, one hand wrapping around his shoulder while the other slid down to his bump, where he caressed it lovingly.  
  
  
  
An embarrassing, low whine of bliss left Harry’s lips. Who else had he ever surrendered to like this? Given in to, shown himself to? Beyond the resilient exterior that had been necessary during the war. He’d never allowed anyone to get this close, not ever…  
  
  
  
 _Am I just setting myself up for hurt_? Harry wondered, remembering the warning look on O’Dempsy’s face earlier and wondering if it translated to more than just the possibilities for the baby.   
  
  
  
“Draco?” He asked, feeling his mind slipping to sleepiness at the soothing strokes over the bump – their daughter, that seemed to be following Draco’s hand. “I can…can trust you, can’t I?”   
  
  
  
 Draco frowned. He wasn’t really sure, not when he didn’t trust himself and the context in which Harry had asked only made him more confused. Draco leant out of Harry’s touch, sitting back so that he could see his expression. “W-What kind of question is that? I – I think you can trust me.”  
  
  
  
Harry winced at the sound of Draco’s voice, so stung.  
  
  
  
“It’s just that I…I don’t make a habit of…” He searched his mind for the right words, “…Of opening myself to people. I don’t resent anything that’s happened, I wouldn’t go back and wish any of it undone. I don’t regret this – that we’ve got closer. I don’t want to lose it.” He realised then, just what he’d said, for Draco’s eyes widened, the fingers wrapped around his shoulder tigthtening.   
  
  
  
“I – what did you just–?” But Draco’s voice was cut short as that irritating, echoing knock sounded. It always seemed to fill the room at the most inopportune moments. Draco blinked, staring at him confusedly for a moment, as if debating on whether to ignore it or not, but then, he let out a frustrated growl and got to his feet. “Bloody hell, come in then!”  
  
  
  
The emerald flames roared in the grate and the dark figure of Severus Snape stepped through, a large box tucked under his arm. He seemed (for some reason) surprised to see Harry there, and tipped his head to him politely before looking to Draco. “I received your owl and have brought what you asked for,” he said in his simple, whispering voice, evidently unsure of what to say in front of Harry.  
  
  
  
“Er, thank you, just place it down on the table,” Draco said dissmissively, trying not to draw attention to the object in question, but Harry already seemed curious. “That’s all then?” Draco asked. Snape bowed his head, before tugging Draco aside.  
  
  
  
“You are alright?” He asked in a low whisper, but Harry could hear him regardless.   
  
  
  
“Yes. I–I'm fine,” Draco said agitatedly. He wasn’t quite sure he’d forgiven Snape or his mother just yet, but what had he said to Harry the other day? Wasn’t love unconditional?   
  
  
  
As the dark man approached, driven away by the lingering silence, Draco smothered his pride and spoke up. “The baby. It…she's a girl,” he blurted out, watching the man pause, _just_ catching the fleeting smile that touched those lips. He didn’t know why but he felt…eased by that expression.  
  
  
  
“But don't tell my mother,” Draco continued, “I want to do it.”  
  
  
  
Snape bowed his head once more before leaving, not another word passing his lips.  
  
  
  
Draco returned to his seat beside Harry then, only to find his husband still frowning at him. _He wants to know what is in the box,_ Draco thought, panic swelling in his throat. He swallowed, _hard_ , trying to eradicate the lump building there. “It's just some specialised sleeping draught. You are aware I have been having problems sleeping,” Draco explained, as apathetically as possible.  
  
  
  
Harry frowned, looking across the room to the box on the table, approaching it with distrust. “It’s a bit big for a box of potions,” he reasoned, “And we have plenty of sleeping draught left in the–” His words cut short as Draco seized the hand that had been reaching for the lid of the box, tugging him away so sharply that it made Harry jump. Those grey eyes, however, looked instantly apologetic, but also frantic.  
  
  
  
“Alright,” Harry said, stepping away from the table, watching Draco’s hands come to rest on the lid of the box. “I won’t touch it. It better not be anything that’ll hurt you though,” he warned him, his tone only partially teasing, “You didn’t get me up the duff to leave me to do all this by myself.” It was then that Draco leant forwards, wrapping his arms around Harry’s shoulders, and although Harry wouldn’t realise until later – Draco was taking advantage of a potential change of subject…  
  
  
  
“O’Dempsy scared you today, am I right?” The blond whispered huskily in his ear, as if he were trading a dark secret. Harry’s eyes clamped shut and he winced at the sound of the truth spoken aloud.  
  
  
  
“I’m not scared,” Harry lied. “I can handle pain – I’ve had enough of it to withstand it. I’m not afraid.” Maybe if he said it enough times, clung to it like a mantra, it would become true.  
  
  
  
“Right,” Draco murmured disbelievingly. He knew Harry better than that. “You're allowed to be scared, you know that, don't you?” Draco said. “I think I would be if I were in your place.” Harry, however, seemed to find that idea amusing. “What? Why the laughter all of a sudden?” Draco demanded.  
  
  
  
“Sorry,” Harry chuckled, “Just the image of you lying on your back, fat and pregnant, pining for strawberries and ice-cream… It seems like a bizarre image.” He smiled to himself then, remembering a thirteen year-old Draco’s crying when buckbeak had kicked him, or the year before that when he'd fallen off his broom. Draco had changed so much since then, but still he knew Draco wouldn't be strong enough to handle this.   
  
  
  
He never tolerated pain well in his memory. “I'm not afraid,” Harry stated again, willing it to be true. “I know it'll hurt, but I doubt it can hurt more than dying and I've done that before.” He saw Draco reciprocate with a confused smile and Harry leant up to kiss his cheek, before drawing away towards the bedroom door. “I'll get through this in one piece, you'll see. But right now, I'm going for a bath,” he paused on the threshold as he opened the door, glancing back at Draco invitingly. “You want to come?”  
  
  
  
A moment of hesitation. Then Draco shook his head slowly.  
  
  
  
“Maybe later then?” Harry asked, a little disappointed as he closed the door behind him, leaving his husband alone. Draco exhaled shakily, turning back to the box he had been so desperate to keep Harry away from.  
  
  
  
Carefully he opened up the box, inside were many empty vials and containers and there in the middle of them, sat a flat, round bowl. A pensieve. Drawing his wand from his pocket he sighed deeply. There was no other way, the nightmares had to go.   
  
  
  
He placed his wand to his temple then, slowly drawing out the wispy, silvery memories that plagued him, every day, every night. The ones that had made him such an awful person. The ones that had made him such an awful husband to Harry before now. He trembled as he tugged them from his mind and slipped them, one by one into the pensieve.   
  
  
  
Everyday they shadowed him, he felt himself grow angrier and weaker and he couldn’t afford to fall back again. He didn’t want to be that person again, the one that had made Harry cry and bleed. _The only way to stay strong enough,_ Draco thought, watching his nightmares ripple across the pensieve’s surface. _This is the only way to stay strong enough to protect Harry._  
  
  
  
At last, his head felt lighter, not darkened by the shadows of his dreams. Draco sighed with relief. _Maybe I'll be able to sleep tonight,_ he thought, shutting the brimming pensieve back in the box and carrying it into the bedroom.  
  
  
  
He crept into the room carefully, relaxing when he heard Harry still bathing in the other room. He glanced around the room thoughtfully then, before placing the box behind the curtain in the corner, the curtain that covered the door which lead to the _dungeon_ he had once tortured Harry in. Harry would never even think to approach the door.   
  
  
  
Drawing his wand back in his pocket he walked over to the bed, listening with refreshed senses to the sound of the water from the bathroom and collapsed backwards into the sheets. A long, blissful sigh left his lips. For the first time in a while, he was almost at peace.  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
Harry was surprised when he stepped out of the bathroom to see Draco sprawled elegantly across the bed, his arms tucked behind his head as his chest moved with the gentle breaths of peaceful sleep. A content smile of ease reached him at the sight, Draco hadn't slept properly for so long, he must've been so tired. Towel drying his messy mop of dark hair, Harry crossed the room, and (dressed in only a bathrobe) he slid cautiously onto the bed. He didn't want to wake him up, not when he was finally getting some rest.  
  
  
  
Tossing the towel to the floor, Harry propped himself up on his elbow to better watch the boy sleep, his green eyes ravishing the body before him. He pressed his body closer, craving touch and he felt that familiar rolling sweep of a touch inside him, his hand moving to his belly.   
  
  
  
_I wonder how much of Draco she'll be,_ he wondered, stroking the bump soothingly. “Don't start kicking your father in the side,” he admonished quietly, “He needs to sleep.” But when he raised his eyes to Draco, those murky grey eyes were trained on him.  
  
  
  
“Sorry,” Harry said, sliding up closer now the blond was awake to press his damp head over his heart. “I didn't mean to wake you, I just wanted to…be close.” But he felt Draco turn a little to him then, his left hand reaching down to pet the unruly, wide-awake bump. “You need more sleep,” Harry said, “Do you need me to leave or…or is this alright?” It didn't seem as if Draco had any intention of letting him leave though.  
  
  
  
“N-No, it’s… _stay_ ,” Draco whispered sleepily, feeding his arm around Harry to pull him closer still. “I didn't mean to drift off,” the blond said, rubbing his eyes. “You should be the one who is tired not me. But…it felt nice to sleep a bit…” He felt the bump kick him in the stomach then when he drew closer and he and Harry both smiled in unison.  
  
  
  
“She's going to be one of those children that’s up all night screaming, I think,” Draco mused. “Though I suppose you won't have to worry so much about that when you leave…” Draco choked on those words then as Harry drew back as if burned. _Why, why did you have to ruin this moment?!_ He spat at himself, darting forward after Harry, reaching for him. “Harry, I’m sorry…I…”  
  
  
  
Harry flinched, wondering if he was the only one married to a man that didn't seem to have a clue how he felt. He felt Draco reaching for him, but turned away slightly, plucking at the hem of the nearest pillow agitatedly.  
  
  
  
How could Draco have lived with him for all these months, how could he have felt him snuggle into him at night – at every available opportunity, how could he see the reluctance that flickered in Harry’s eyes whenever leaving was mentioned and not see any of it for what it meant?! Harry closed his eyes, frustration exploding in his chest. Now he knew why women were so testy at times. Men were idiots!  
  
  
  
 _How can he not know that I want to stay?_ Harry wondered, his every muscle tightening. _Why can't he just ask me to stay?! Just once!_ The pressure of Draco’s hand on his shoulder turned him to face the blond, but Harry was at a loss for what to say.  
  
  
  
“What’s wrong?” Draco asked, his brow wrinkled with confusion. “You look pale all of a sudden.” Harry’s eyes seemed to roll in their sockets and Draco flinched at the bitterness reflected in them. As if Harry were silently scolding him. “Is it just hormones again?”  
  
  
  
“Yeah, it's just the _bloody hormones_!” Harry snapped.  
  
  
  
Draco seemed to be caught of guard at his sudden attack and edged backwards slightly. “Oh… I… Perhaps you should rest then? Relax?”  
  
  
  
 Harry threw the cushion he had been picking at aside, struggling to his feet. He felt Draco’s eyes on him as he crossed the room, tearing off his bathrobe. Except it wasn't his really. It was Draco’s, it had Draco’s name on it (literally) just like everything else he was surrounded by. Seizing the black trousers off of the clean pile of clothes, he pulled them on roughly, his temper soaring with the frustration. How could Draco _not_ see?!   
  
   
  
 “What are you doing?” Draco asked, his voice wary. And rightly so, for Harry spun on his heel to face him, his expression livid.  
  
  
  
“Getting dressed – in clothes that you _didn't_ buy me,” Harry snapped, pulling on one of his old baggy t-shirts. “Relax… _relax_?!” Harry repeated, his hands curling into fists with frustration. “How can I possibly relax when you seek to remind me at every opportunity that _nothing_ that surrounds me is mine?!” His eyes darted to the small pile of things the Weasleys had given them for the baby that night. Without thinking, his fury boiling his bran, he seized the book he'd been reading from the top and hurled it at Draco’s head. The blond ducked, only just in time, watching Harry with utter bewilderment.  
  
   
  
 “Maybe you should bloody take a look at _that_ and at least _try_ to understand what I need from you right now! _How can I relax here_?! Everything is yours! I'm not staying here, right? I'm not welcome here after I've popped your daughter out so how can _any_ of this be mine?! This isn't my house, it isn't _our_ house, it's yours! Just like these are your clothes! Like this is your bed – I'm just a bloody _lodger_ , am I right?! I'm land for rent for four more months! Can I even call her mine or is she all yours too?!"  
  
  
  
“Calm down,” Draco demanded sternly, gesturing emphatically with his hands for him to compose himself. But Harry wasn't listening and Draco felt another item whizz past his head, narrowly missing him again. “And don't throw things at me!” Draco shouted in defense, but his husband’s eyes were already livid, burning with the pent-up fury of an inferno.   
  
  
  
“What is wrong with you? You want your own room? Fine, I can give you that! If you want space I'll make a room here that is yours!” Draco’s eyes narrowed when Harry just looked at him with disbelief and frustration. “I've already _told you._ We can work somthing out. One moment you want one thing and the next you aren’t sure. I don't understand you…”   
  
  
  
Harry’s sullen silence sent him mad then.  
  
  
  
“You expect me to know _everything_! But I’m only bloody human! It’s impossible! You won't ever tell me in depth what's wrong! You won't ask for anything you want!” Draco snarled. His hands clenched into fists as he struggled to restrain his anger, but it was already rising in him like a tidal wave. “How can I help you when you're acting like this? Acting like a childish twat!”  
  
  
  
Harry was shaking with rage. “How can I ask you for anything? Any time we share anything good, you throw up the fact that I’m going to be tossed out of here on my arse as soon as I pop out your daughter? I don’t want my own room, you _wanker_. I’ve all-but told you what I need! Do I need to spell it out for you?! I want to belong somewhere! I want to feel like I belong here instead of being made to feel like you’re humouring me, placating me like a nervous little housewife!” He lashed out again, swiping at the chair beside the door and sending it flying across the room. His eyes, flared, livid green turning on Draco, daring him to react.   
  
  
  
“It feels like you give me these wonderful gifts and then you piss on them with carelessness, with reminders that I cant keep this, not anything. Not my daughter, not my life, not _anything_ that I’m…! How can I be comfortable, or settle here when I know I can’t stay?!”   
  
  
  
“Well do you want to stay suddenly? Because all you wanted before was to leave! It's all you desired, more than…” Draco suddenly shook his head, struggling to bite back the angry tears and bile in his throat. “M-More than anything you wanted to leave. I'm giving you what you asked for, you selfish prick!” He tried to sound firm, but his voice ached with those words. He didn't want him to leave, not at all.   
  
  
  
“You're the one being bloody stupid! You think _I want_ you to leave?!” Draco shouted picking up the chair Harry had flung at him and whacking it across the room. The object groaned and shattered as it slammed into the wall. “You're the one who is careless! You almost drank yourself to death and took my daughter with you!”   
  
  
  
Harry had flinched then, but not from the table being lunged across the room, for the careless repetition of that event he loathed to think on. He dipped his head, his teeth grinding together furiously as Draco dropped onto the side of the bed. “You promised me you wouldn’t talk about that anymore,” he said, his voice low and steady, the total contrast to the rage screaming inside him.  
  
  
  
He didn’t understand. He was so sure Draco wanted him to go, he had been certain it would have been too painful for Draco if he’d stayed. But if Draco didn’t want him to go then why did he seek to remind him that he would have to leave. He shook his head, frustrated tears pricking spitefully at his eyes.  
  
  
  
“Y-You – if you wanted me to stay why didn’t you bloody ask me to?! Instead of throwing it in my face along with every mistake I ever made?! Like you never made a mistake Draco fucking Malfoy! You raped me like a brutal little masochist on our wedding night! You stuck needles in me! You sewed your initial into my _cock_ you sick bastard! I’m not perfect but you’re far from it too so don’t you _dare_ throw that in my face! I was scared, I was _alone_ – what’s your excuse for all the things you did to me?”  
  
  
  
“Fuck off!” Draco spat, suddenly an acidy self-disgust settling in his stomach. “I'm not _that person_ anymore, and it's because I'm not that I _didn't ask_!”  
  
  
  
Harry looked dumbfounded at him.  
  
  
  
“ _What?_ You want me to fucking spell it out for you, you prick? I didn't want to be selfish and think about what I wanted! _Oh no_ ,” he snarled, his voice dripping sarcasm, “I was actually thinking about you, you! Putting your _needs_ before my own! You wanted to leave, so that’s exactly what I wanted for you, because I want you to be bloody happy you idiot! Why would I want you to stay if that’s not what you want?!” Draco sighed deeply, his breaths stuttering with fury, choking him he spoke so fast as the hysteria loomed over his head.  
  
  
  
“And if at any point that changed and you wanted to stay – something that I can't ever imagine happening to me after _‘all the things I did’_ to you, why didn't you tell me? Tell me, instead of leaving me to hurt over you every day, looking at what I believe I can never have?”  
  
  
  
His entire body was shaking now, months of pent-up misery, of repressed, pointless longing was bubbling up and over, searing his lips as he screamed. “Do you even _see_ the constant struggle I’m in when I'm with you? Do you have any _idea_ how I feel? You have no clue how hard it is for me to not fall more and more in love with you every day, you selfish prick! I mean… _Bollocks!_ You know how much I want you! So what is this?!”  
  
  
  
Harry stood silent for a moment, his mouth moving without words, his brain unable to form them as Draco’s words tore through his mind, his preconceptions and doubts, blasting at his every waking thought like a hurricane. For the first time, he saw every emotion Draco possessed, laid raw for him to see, and his husband was _drowning_ in them.  
  
  
  
Those words, they stung like a slap in the face and he marched over, glaring furiously down at him before seizing the blond’s collar with a shaking fist. He yanked the man up hard to his feet, smashing their lips together.  
  
  
  
He felt Draco frown, felt him snarl and struggle but Harry’s other hand flew up to seize his hair roughly, keeping his mouth against his as Harry’s tongue swept in, demanding entry. Draco stiffened, but didn’t comply and Harry felt his confusion, even through the red-hot fury, through his own confusion burning through his skull.  
  
  
  
“I didn’t tell you I wanted to stay because I thought it’d hurt you too much if I did – I didn’t want to be _selfish_ by asking to stay,” he hissed, his words dusting Draco’s lips they were still so close, their eyes glaring into one-another.  
  
  
  
“Haven't you got it yet?” Draco breathed shakily, “There's a bloody _shrine_ to you in my liquor cabinet you twit!” Draco flushed at his own annoucement, but though shocked Harry wasn't surprised, which told him his husband had seen it for himself. Draco felt his troat burn and his eyes prickle with tears. He pulled a silent Harry close then, holding him tight.   
  
  
  
“Just stay like this…for a moment…?”  
  
  
  
There was no greater feeling than holding him. He just had to calm himself in his arms for a few moments, moments he couldn't quite understand.  
  
  
  
Harry stood there, frozen, unsure what Draco wanted him to do. Unsure if he was still more pissed off about being called selfish than he was concerned for Draco’s feelings. Mostly he felt…tense, like his stomach was tying itself in a knot. Without thinking, his arms reached up to clasp at Draco’s back, he closed his eyes, inhaling brokenly as he tried to force the right words from his lips.   
  
  
  
“I don’t want to leave you and our daughter behind,” he whispered huskily, as if the words were taboo. He felt Draco’s arms tighten, as if he didn’t believe the words but longed to. He didn’t know how he felt about Draco, he couldn’t put it into words, all he knew was that he didn’t want to leave him. “I don’t know what that means. I don’t know if I’ll ever know what – _whatever_ we have means to me. But I…I want to stay…”  
  
  
  
“Then _stay_ ,” Draco pleaded brokenly, his voice cracking. He looked at Harry then, his face stained with shining tears when he repeated himself. “Stay…”   
  
  
  
If Harry felt he wanted to stay, that was good enough. He would take whatever he could and even if Harry didn't feel what he did, that didn't matter. As long as he was happy beside him.  
  
  
  
Harry sank forwards into him then and Draco held him as close as he dared. “I – I may be a selfish bastard more often in the future then, because I want you to stay here,” Draco whispered, as if afraid of being overheard. “It's what I’ve always wanted.”  
  
  
  
Harry felt his cheeks suffuse with colour and he tipped his head into the hollow of Draco’s throat, the tension leaving his body. He couldn’t quite believe it, somewhere in his heart he had been so sure he was going to have to leave this all behind and find himself alone in the end. Now, he was quite sure that Draco would do anything to keep that from happening.   
  
  
  
“I…I don’t want you to let me go, no matter what my friends say, or what…what your father does or says to you. I don’t want you to make me leave… I–” A finger found his lips and he fell silent under it’s gentle pressure, drawing back a little to look into Draco’s face for the first time since they’d both been honest.  
  
  
  
“Hush.”  
  
  
  
Draco’s eyes closed slowly. His lashes fluttered on his cheeks when he slid his finger down to tilt Harry’s chin up. And their lips met. The world around them, everything seemed to ebb away like the remnants of a dream as he sank into those lips. Draco’s hands drew up to his husband’s flushed cheeks, his thumbs caressing them tenderly, treasuring him while they kissed. Softly. Gently.  
  
  
  
This was what he wanted, this was _all_ he had ever wanted. And never dared to dream he could have.  
  
  
  
Harry flushed darker, his lashes dusting his cheeks as he blinked, tongue swiping over his suddenly dry lips. A low, quivering moan left his lips from just the feeling of that chaste kiss. He hadn’t had this before, this nervous stomach fluttering – not over so small a touch anyway. He tilted his head a little, taking more. “Draco,” he murmured against those lips, “I – I need you.” He was quite sure Ron would punch him if he’d every heard him say that, pregnant or no, and Hermione…she would probably have him commited. But he couldn’t seem to care.  
  
  
  
Draco’s tongue slid deeper inside his mouth, entangling Harry’s words and swallowing them, savouring their sweetness. To him, they were important, more important than anything. He needed Harry too. So badly.  
  
  
  
Gently, he leant his husband back a little to make sure Harry could see him reach for his belt-buckle below.    
  
  
  
Harry stood above him, his bump resting just above Draco’s knees as he watched him pull his buckle open. Draco shuddered then as Harry’s emerald eyes examined him, shining intensely. “S-Suck it…?” He asked, unsurely. He had meant it as a demand, but couldn’t quite manage the arrogance Harry had come to…  
  
  
  
Harry’s eyes flared with need and he raised his hands, resting his hot palms on Draco’s thighs, holding his gaze as slowly he caressed his skin. He hovered there a moment, letting Draco squirm in anticipation, before he slid to his knees (as gracefully as the bump permitted), his hot breath ghosting over Draco’s already swelling hardness.   
  
  
  
He didn’t say anything, couldn’t seem to get his voice to work right now, but the gaze he kept locked with Draco’s, it spoke volumes. His fingers made slow, sensual patterns on the insides of those pale thighs and he watched Draco quiver. Slowly, Harry tilted his head to rub his cheek up the length of the blond’s arousal tenderly. Fingers stroked the back of his neck encouragingly and Harry glanced back up at the blond again, remembering Draco’s words. Still looking up, he lowered his head, parting his lips to smooth them over the pink head peaking out from the foreskin.  
  
  
  
“H-Hot!” Draco gasped, the steamy pants making his hardness ache. “Bloody hell, please?” He begged, stroking Harry’s hair. Harry’s wet lips touched him then, a chaste kiss to his rather un-chaste, weeping organ.  
  
  
  
“ _Merlin_ , Harry, don't tease!” Draco spluttered, leaning back on his elbows to watch his lover nibbling his swollen helmet. “Take it, all of it…!”  
  
  
  
Harry raised his brows, those fingers sweeping his frindge from his eyes so that Draco could see them as Harry’s lips parted more, sliding over the throbbing hardness until the head popped through the tight ring his lips made. Harry’s cheeks hollowed as he sucked slowly, his tongue flicking at the underside and manipulating the line of sensitive flesh leading down from his slit.   
  
  
  
Reaching forwards, Harry encircled the lower half with his hand, stroking the shaft gently as his mouth sucked at the rest of it. He moved his mouth lower, still sucking greedily, his lips meeting where his hand was jerking him off. He hummed deep in his throat, letting the vibrations carry up Draco’s sensitive, pulsing length. The fingers caressing his hair clenched in his dark locks in pleasure.  
  
  
  
“M-More! Good, it f-feels good!” Draco’s lips parted, his tongue rolling across them hungrily. Hungry for more, more of this, more of _him_. He panted, gasping as Harry swallowed him whole and sucked hard on his cock. “Yesss,” he hissed, “You've gotten so good at this!” The base of his cock swelled under the ministrations, his eyes narrowing with dark, seductive passion.  
  
  
  
“W-When you have made it wet enough, s-slide yourself on top of me?” Draco asked, watching Harry’s eyes widen a little at the debauched plea. “I – I want you to ride me. Hard. Put your tight little arse on my slick cock, I – _bloody hell_ , Harry!”  
  
  
  
Drawing his lips back from his mouthful, Harry continued jerking it with his hand, globules of saliva spilling over his lips and oozing down over the head of Draco’s hardness. He smirked as Draco hissed deliciously and Harry made sure he was watching as he brought his own fingers to his lips, lathering them with spittle, his tongue darting out insituatively as he pulled them back.   
  
  
  
“Tell me that you want me,” Harry breathed, speaking for the first time since this had begun, he reached down to circle his entrance then, preparing himself with his lubricated fingers. His other hand kept working Draco’s length and he tipped his head so that it rested on a milky thigh as he fingered himself eagerly. “T-Tell me…tell me that you need me,” he gasped out, his eyes glazing over with wetness.  
  
  
  
“I want you! _Merlin_ , Harry, I want your tight ring to split on my cock!” Draco exclaimed with a needy pant. “Fuck yourself on me, like you need it. Please, I need it… Fucking buggering hell!” Draco arched up then, plunging his cock harder into the circle Harry had made with his hand. Fucking it. His pre-cum drizzled out over the top, leaking and splurting over Harry’s fingers as he moved faster to please him.  
  
  
  
“Please!” Draco demanded again.  
  
  
  
Harry smirked breathlessly, prising himself open a little more with his fingers. “Spoilt little slytherin prince,” Harry panted, before spitting more saliva over Draco’s cock and releasing him in favour of straddling those hips. It felt odd, being in this position now he was pregnant, but thankfully the bump wasn’t overly large – all the same he couldn’t help but chuckle in embarrassment when he met Draco’s eyes. He quickly distracted himself by reaching back to angle the blond’s leaking prick at his winking hole.  
  
  
  
“Hmmm, I can’t do it myself – I’m ready, put it in,” he murmured huskily, feeling the hand that had been caressing his arse slide down to grip Draco’s cock. Harry settled his own hands on Draco’s chest, perking his bum back in invitation as he felt the blond circle his scorching cock-head over his twitching entrance. “P-Put it in,” he repeated in a debauched whisper.  
  
  
  
Draco’s eyes almost clamped shut with sensation at those words. He groaned at the sound, angling his cock and squeezing the throbbing tip through the tight opening. “You ready?” Draco asked. Harry nodded. The blond brought his other hand round then to Harry’s shoulder, steadying him and pushing him down, while his other hand helped his cock to slide into that yielding body.  
  
  
  
Harry hissed at the burning beginnings of it, the raw flesh stretching him wide. His wrinkled skin ate Draco hungrily, gobbling him eagerly as he slid down that hard organ and Draco’s hand slipped from Harry’s shoulder as he leant up a bit to position himself better.  
  
  
  
“Well go on then…ride me,” Draco purred.  
  
  
  
“C-Can’t believe this… _so embarrassing_!” Harry gasped out, closing his eyes so that he didn’t have to see Draco watching him. It felt peculiar, riding the crests of Draco’s hips with the bump on full view and he jerked with surprise when he felt those hands slide over it. His cock jerked at the touch, wanting the attention and Harry’s fingers clenched where they lay on Draco’s chest, using them as support as he rolled his hips back onto the thick shaft inside of him.   
  
  
  
He felt his mouth tugged open in a groan he couldn’t stop and his cheeks flushed. “D-Don’t…don’t look at me,” he breathed, grinding himself insatiably back onto that thick prick, pressing his own into Draco’s stomach with every movement.  
  
  
  
“You’re such a girl!” Draco teased, knowing how Harry hated the feminine endearments. “We’ve fucked loads of times before. Come on, give me a show?” Draco’s hand slipped from Harry’s belly then, sliding down to the organ hanging below it. “You’re cock is leaking all over my stomach?” He teased, beaming when he felt Harry clench fiercely around him at his teasing.  
  
  
  
“Hmm…ahh!” Draco groaned when Harry slowly moved himself over him. “Come on, my prissy little housewife…” His tone went dangerously low then. “Fuck yourself on me! Don’t be shy.”  
  
  
  
“I…It’s not _that_ ,” Harry panted, never slowing the hungry rolls of his hips, not even for embarrassment. “I – I can see the…the bump, _you_ can see it, while we’re – it’s on full view and it’s weird!” Harry declared at last, his body jerking with quivers as Draco squeezed his needy cock. He felt Draco’s free hand on his hip then, guiding him up and down over him, faster, harder. “And I’m not your – not your _wife!_ ” He breathed, rising to the teasing, _hardening_ with it.  
  
  
  
“It’s not weird, it’s beautiful!” Draco corrected, caressing it again with his other hand. His eyes darkening passion as he rolled his hands down to Harry’s hips and threw his head back. “F-Fuck, I feel like I’m m-melting!”   
  
  
  
Draco’s hands moved frantically over Harry, touching him all over, everywhere, more desperately than he had ever touched anyone. He couldn’t get enough of him, he wanted more. Always more. He pulled him forwards so the bump was the only thing separating them. Harry could see directly into his eyes now. Eyes that seemed to be shining with glossy tears.   
  
  
  
“I need this!” Draco groaned, tears spilling over his lashes and rolling down his cheeks. Tears of relief, of need, of desire, of thankfulness that he finally had him. They tingled as they trickled down his skin. Like magic. Everything felt magical, not because they were wizards, but because of who was above him, around him, holding onto him as if nothing else mattered. “Please… Move on me.”  
  
  
  
“Hmm,” Harry agreed softly, reaching down to smooth Draco’s golden locks from his sweaty forehead, sliding their lips together, grinding himself into Draco’s body shamelessly. “G-Good…! Feels so good!” He panted into Draco’s mouth, feeling himself tugged nearly inside-out with every thrust. Thoroughly stretched and taken and abused and he was gasping with it.  
  
  
  
He broke away from the kiss then, saliva trickling down his chin and he arched his neck as Draco’s lips chased the wet line down over his adam’s apple, mouthing the shape of his throat tenderly. “Y-You feel amazing in me!” He cried out, voice high with hysteria. “This – you always feel amazing…!”  
  
  
  
Draco groaned dazedly at his words, though he knew they were true. He felt it too, it always was amazing with Harry. Like a million boxes of the Weasley’s fire tricks gone off behind his eyes. His tongue circled the dent of Harry’s adam’s apple, before working round the edges of his jaw and the bottom of his earlobe. He felt Harry shudder against him, his entire body sent into irrepressible spasms.  
  
  
  
“You’re so hot! My cock feels like it’s burning inside you. You’re tight, so delicious…” Draco tossed his head to the side then, pleading. “Touch my nipples?!”  
  
  
  
Harry smirked, leaning down to lave the hollow of Draco’s throat as his fingers reached down, circling the skin around the light pink areola before eventually brushing the pads of his fingers over the hardening bud. “You have such girly, pink nipples,” Harry teased lightly, plucking the skin gently, before leaning down, rolling the stiffening peak with his tongue. The position was awkward but the cry that left Draco’s lips was worth it.  
  
  
  
“Hmmm,” he hummed against the skin, sucking the bud eagerly, catching it between his teeth and tormenting it with his tongue. “You taste nice…”  
  
  
  
“They’re not girly!” Draco snapped childishly, an almost pout touching his features. Though admittedly, they were rather pink, to go with his pale skin. “Ah, ah _Harry_!” The pleasure overrode any insult right now. Draco was sure Harry could feel his cock throbbing inside him with every slight movement.   
  
  
  
“F-fft, please! Merlin’s…f-fuck…!” He didn’t know what he was pleading for, it simply felt so amazing it _hurt_ to remain quiet! “You’re tongue, it’s so…so… Oh, fuck…!”  
  
  
  
Draco’s hips jerked like mad against Harry’s backside, shoving desperately inside him for more feeling, more everything. His foreskin caught inside, brushing and tightening deliciously. Intense, molten pleasure rushed over him like an ocean of lava swallowing him, drowning him, searing his soul.  
  
  
  
Harry leaned back, a groan ripping from his lips as he sat back fully on Draco’s hardness, feeling the blond’s thrusts pummelling his pleasure spot. “Hnnn, harder – need – need more! Open me up – stretch me until I can’t possibly go back to normal! Oh… Hnn, need more!” He gasped deliriously, jerking his hips in frantic circular gyrations over Draco’s, frustration at not being able to go faster making him cry out again. “D-Draco…need you harder…more, _please!_ ”  
  
  
  
He heard Draco chuckle breathlessly and he couldn’t help but wonder when he’d been so successfully converted into such a wanton slut.  
  
  
  
Draco’s hips jerked frantically then, as he gave a part groan, part chuckle. “Hmm, you greedy slut, you want more of my cock, hmm? I suppose I am a slut too, then, because I always want more of your tight little arse…”  
  
  
  
Harry’s muscles clenched painfully tight around Draco’s invading organ, sucking him in. “S-Shit, I’m leaking inside you… I think I…I… _fuck_!” Draco used his hands to move Harry back on himself harder, his balls slapping into his cheeks, their bodies coming together with noisy, wet sounds.  
  
  
  
Harry rolled his hips back, letting Draco steer his hips, lifting him and dropping him against his own thrusts. Harry’s head tipped back, the tendons in his throat tensing as he cried out at the fullness. “Hnn, so deep,” he panted, closing his eyes, his nails grazing Draco’s arms in his ecstasy as Draco drove his body over his own, “T-Take me – take me deeper, Draco! Make me – make cum, _please_!”  
  
  
  
“I’ll make you cum. Harder than you have ever in your entire life,” Draco groaned. “Bloody hell, I’m close!” Draco could feel his cock swelling inside that arse as his gaze wandered down to the neglected organ hanging below Harry’s stomach. “You want me to touch your cock too, hmm?” He teased, feeling Harry’s bum clench around his pulsing prick.   
  
  
  
“My cock is going to burst! Shit! _Close_ , I’m so fucking close!” Draco’s lips drew out the sound of that last word, his breath escaping him as he thundered towards his climax. “Cum for me, _my wife_. Cum!” Draco was sure that if Harry wasn’t so delirious with pleasure he would have been scolded for that, but the way he was moving along him suggested that he was anything but.  
  
  
  
“Hmm you like that – you like that don’t you? You like calling me girly names while you’re fucking me, don’t you, _Gorgeous_?” He slid his toes underneath him on the bed, using his feet to rock back into Draco’s frantic thrusts. “Oh, more – deeper, I’m close – play with my cock?” He ran his fingers ravenously over Draco’s chest, caressing him hungrily as the blond’s fist closed around his prick. It jerked and drooled in his grasp and Harry choked, the pleasure to much to withstand. He felt like he was going to burst!  
  
  
  
“That’s it, play with it for me. Harder, just a little closer!”  
  
  
  
Draco carefully moved Harry sideways onto the bed then, shaking him into a hazy confussion. “Don’t stop now?!” Harry protested when Draco slid his cock out. But Draco had no intention of stopping.  
  
  
  
“Don’t worry your pretty little head, I’m not about to stop,” Draco promised, crawling down his body, then slowly licking a thick trail down his belly to his trobbing cock. He teethed the tip of Harry’s cock, replacing his empty hole with two fingers before taking the length into his mouth.   
  
  
  
He teased the organ ruthlessly, grazing his teeth over the end in little barely-there nibbles, watching and smiling while Harry wriggled frantically below him. He took the pinkish head of Harry cock and bit a little. Harry hissed in pain. Draco growled deep in his throat, tugging the tender organ with his lips, circling the crown with his tongue, as though to reward him with the pleasure after the pain. “Earn your fuck, Harry, earn your cum…”  
  
  
  
“Ouch!” Harry gasped as Draco nipped as his foreskin again, those grey eyes burning into him. Those lips followed, kissing his pain before sucking softly. Harry shuddered, squirming in frustration at having his release postponed. “Y-You – You _can’t_ just… Make me cum, please, I – I need it!” Those lips tipped up with a wicked grin around the pink, abused head of his prick and he frowned, wondering what Draco was playing at all of a sudden.  
  
  
  
“W-What are you doing?” He panted, his legs trying to clamp shut but Draco was in the way. And his treacherous cock was arching up to tap against those lips, his tight hole clenching eagerly around Draco’s fingers. He squirmed as the digits pumped in his stretched ring, torturing his swollen pleasure spot until he was groaning despite the little nipping teeth at his cock. “D-Draco that hurts!” He insisted, hating how hazy his voice sounded just then.   
  
  
  
“You want to cum though, don’t you?” Harry wriggled in answer, but Draco wanted a verbal response. “If you want to cum, you’re going to have to deal with it. Besides…your body is craving it, and the pain…you like it to spice your pleasure, Harry, you always have,” Draco teased and Harry winced below him.   
  
  
  
Draco’s mouth swallowed that organ whole then, and everytime Harry seemed to sink into that amazing wave of pleasure he was cruely brought back from his pleasure with little nips of pain. “I said I’d give you the biggest orgasm of your life, and I will…”  
  
  
  
Harry’s hands flew down, pushing at Draco’s shoulders, as if to shove him away, but a sharp twinge over his nipple made his body jerk upwards. He glanced down, seeing Draco’s free hand holding his wand to Harry’s pierced nipple. “W-What – what was that?” Harry gasped, a tiny jolt of static stinging his nipple, making the silver ring through it grow warm. “D-Don’t – Draco what about–?”  
  
  
  
“She’s fine, it’s just a little static – feels good, doesn’t it?”  
  
  
  
“N-No!” Harry insisted, turning his cheek to the sheets, but another burst of static shot through his nipple and he squirmed, pre-emission spitting out of the eye of his cock over Draco’s lips.  
  
  
  
“Heh, look at you squirming,” Draco teased, to which Harry scowled up at him. “Don’t give me that face, you know you like it,” Draco said, dipping his head and swallowing Harry’s cock deeply. He leant back, out sniffing down the area his fingers were tormenting. “You want something in here too, hmm?”  
  
  
  
Raising his wand to Harry’s arse he slipped it in beside his fingers, conjuring another little surpise.   
  
  
  
“What – what the hell is that?” Harry asked, wriggling wildly, his slick chute clenching around the invading object. He saw Draco’s smirk as he dropped his wand, wrapping his fingers back around his cock, tugging his foreskin back down off the leaking head and swiping up the trail of pre-emission with his tongue.  
  
  
  
“What did you put in me?” Harry demanded, it felt like a little round ball but then Draco’s free hand returned, pressing it further inside and with it, it sucked another larger one, then another, and another. “What are you doing to me?” He said, with a shuddering tremble to his words now and more, larger balls were cramped into his body with Draco’s determined fingers.   
  
  
  
“S-Stop!” he gasped, “Enough! Draco I’m – no more will fit!” He reached down to shove Draco’s hand away, but as he shifted, the string of toys inside swelled, growing larger, pulsing inside him in frantic rhythm. And still there was a unwavering pressure at his entrance – Draco was trying to push more in. His insides trembled with the sensations. His eyes slammed shut and he turned his head away. Too much, it was all too much…  
  
  
  
“ _Stop_!” He breathed. “I – I’m already full…”  
  
  
  
Harry’s hips went rigit at the elertricity pulsing through each of the balls inside him, filling him. “Hmm,” Draco hummed as he breathed hotly over the shaft of Harry’s cock. “But your body loves it, loves these _sensations_ , these debauched things I do to you. And you love it too, don’t you?”  
  
  
  
When Harry said nothing, Draco’s smile broadened, his lips pressed over his head again, suckling him. “It won’t hurt her,” he promised, meaning his daughter. “They are charmed, especially for blokes in your delicate condition.” He surveyed Harry’s flushed face then, waiting, before adding, “I will stop if you ask. Do you really want me to stop?” He asked, his words slow and husky.  
  
  
  
Harry’s body arched into where his cock was being sucked like a lollypop again. He had to look down then, unable to help himself at the sight of Draco slurping at his hardness. “N-No,” he admitted quietly, “No, don’t stop. More – more, just…just let me cum. I’m going to _burst_ …!” That low chuckle and he quivered again, the conjured toy filling him so completely undulating inside his hot, tight hole.  
  
  
  
The hand wrapped around him was fisting him faster now, coaxing his needy prick towards climax. “Oh, _please_ – so hot, your fingers are so… Make me cum! I can’t take it!”  
  
  
  
“Burst, let it all out over us…over me, spill your dirty juices all over me,” Draco pleaded, pulling slowly at the beads in his arse. They pressured that rim just perfectly, buzzing inside, sending waves of static pleasure through the slick walls until Harry was writhing on the bed like an electrified serpent.  
  
  
  
“I’m going to kiss you Harry,” Draco purred, his eyes shining with lust. He dipped his head then and his lips met with that honey-hued throat. Harry groaned and squirmed as slowl, Draco dropped intense kisses along the flesh leading up to his ear. He suckled at the flesh and leaving light bruises where he had nibbled too hard in random places. Finally, he reached his sensitive ear. His lips slide over the lobe and wetly, the point of his tongue curling up and along the edge until he reached the top and slide down inside. He felt Harry jerk at the feeling of his hot tongue delving in eagerly.  
  
  
  
“You’re spilling again,” Draco teased, noticing the cock leaking in his hand below. Everything was happening so fast, and almost all at once, so many emotions, so many feelings, rising, and rushing over him. Over them both. He moved his head around then, staring directly into Harry’s eyes. Silvery-grey locked with the emerald-green gaze.  
  
  
  
Suddenly part of him felt like it had connected with him, deeper than he would have dared to hope before, like they had become one. It was the weirdest sensation (when Draco himself wasn’t fucking him with his cock) to feel this connected. But when his lips magnetically drew in and touched Harry’s, he knew then, this was it. This was what it took to be one, together. To put your heart on your sleeve for the world to see, to be honest, like he had been and to admit what you want, and how much you like someone. Love someone. And to not give a shit what the world thought, as long as that person smiled back in answer.   
  
  
  
“Cum for me, please, cum for me,” He gasped, watching the light in Harry’s eyes flicker in the afternoon’s light. “Come on, Cum…!”  
  
  
  
Harry’s lashes fluttered and he let out a panting groan as his body tensed. His balls drew up tight to his body, his arse spiralling into spasms and he tipped his head back, his lips seeking Draco’s greedily. His cock exploded, and he cried out into Draco’s lips as his climax burst out over Draco’s fingers in thick, white streams.   
  
  
  
“Ahhh…stroke me, stroke me while I’m cumming!” Harry gasped, his cum spilling over Draco’s fist, his fingers scraping over the blond’s skin, desperately as he hovered in ecstasy. “Y-Yes…perfect, you’re so perfect!” Harry whispered breathlessly, nuzzling his face into the side of Draco’s neck, “Feel…so close like this…”  
  
  
  
Draco smiled bashfully at that compliment, looking down at the hot white fluid dripping from his fingers. He wrapped his arm up around Harry’s back then, pulling him in close while his other hand reached down to tug the balls from his abused bum slowly. They popped out in sudden bursts and Harry moved forward eagerly, relaxing into those arms protecting him as they left his body.  
  
  
  
“Hmm, feel good?”   
  
  
  
Harry nodded against him, the aftershock, the glowing feeling of post-orgasmic bliss tickling his skin all over. He felt it, from the roots of his hair down to the bottoms of his toes. “Very good,” he admitted with a dazed smirk, caressing the line of Draco’s spine teasingly, his skin buzzing.  
  
  
  
“Hnn, you have to stop that static on my nipple though,” he laughed softly, his eyes glistening with bliss as those long, cum-stained fingers were brought to his lips. He held that gaze, wrapping his lips around each digit and licking his spendings from them insinuatingly, swiping at the smoothness of Draco’s palm before drawing back.   
  
  
  
“You alright?” Harry asked huskily, still breathless, his gaze travelling the length of Draco’s lean body. “How shall I finish you, _husband_?”  
  
  
  
“Hmm, I-I’m… Well if you want to finish me, y-you can,” Draco stuttered, though he’d had no intention of finishing originally. “I…I’m happy just – just holding you,” he admitted sheepishly. Harry dipped his head into his chest when his arms came up to hold him closer.   
  
  
  
“Although as my wife, I suppose you are entitled to, if you wish. But if you and the baby are tired, then I…I don’t mind,” Draco assured him. It felt so akward to say these things, the easiest of things to Harry. But everytime he did, he felt a little more relaxed with him..  
  
  
  
Harry’s eyes narrowed at the teasing. “I’m not your bloody wife,” Harry growled with disdain, his hands roaming Draco’s hips and then the smooth globes of his arse. “And your daughter is wide awake I assure you,” he said with a smirk. He seemed thoughtful for a moment and then he rolled onto his back, his fingers gripping Draco’s bum cheeks roughly, dragging him up to kneel over his chest.   
  
  
  
Draco stared down at him with confusion. Harry smirked deviously back.  
  
  
  
“I want you to finish like this,” he breathed, caressing the blond’s bottom slowly.  
  
  
  
Draco eyes flickered at his suggestion and he stared intensely down from his position to Harry’s lips which were moistened by a teasing tongue. Draco’s cock arched mid-air as he watched those lips roll over one-another sexily. His hips shuddered at the slight touch of Harry’s fingers dancing down over them.   
  
  
  
“Bloody hell…go on then,” Draco gasped, unable to look at him without feeling he would _explode_ just from this position. His cock dangled forward against Harry’s face, bobbing above him until Harry grasped it, placing small licks up the base.  
  
  
  
“Finish me, please!” Draco begged, his buttocks tensing against Harry’s neck. “Shit, I feel so…” Draco blushed then, well aware that Harry could see the red flush that had overwhelmed his cheeks.   
  
  
  
Harry smirked devilishly, gazing up into that stormy gaze as he rubbed his cheek against the hard shaft, his free hand sliding underneath to squeeze his balls. “Hnn, don’t tell me you’re blushing, Mr Malfoy?” Harry breathed, the pads of his fingers sliding back to trace the sensitive ring of flesh. “You are, you’re blushing aren’t you?” He lifted his head, sliding his tongue around the swollen, pink head, dipping beneath the foreskin and sucking at the loose flesh gently.   
  
  
  
“You want to cum over my face?”  
  
  
  
“ _Merlin_ , just shut up and do it,” Draco panted awkwardly, laughing lightly, care-free and flushed at Harry’s teasing for the first time ever. He never felt this free, this unreserved. His face was probably scrunched up with boundless ecstasy, his body must’ve been quivering like a virgin’s, he was all-too aware of how he must have looked just then, but Harry seemed so content with however he appeared. It made Harry happy and Draco needed it, and a larger, _growing_ part of him had no shame in such freedom.  
  
  
  
“Make me cum, _please_ , I want to cum on you. F-Fuck, please?!” Draco pleaded, his hand reaching down to flick the tip of his cock deeper into those suckling lips. His foreskin rolled backwards a little when the head slid inside, delving into the velvet heat of that mouth. And when that devious tongue met the slit leaking, Draco’s body arched manically into him.  
  
  
  
“Fuck! Suck me, fuck me! Please, _suck_ my cock!”  
  
  
  
Harry smiled at his debauched words, eyes shinning with a delirious passion at every sensitive movement he gave. What a treat, to see _Draco Malfoy_ melting this way. For him, so wholeheartedly.   
  
  
  
“Hmm, you like that, don’t you?” Harry murmured when he drew back for air, “You want to cum like this? Cum on me?” His cheeks hollowed as he sucked the first few inches into the sweltering cavern of his mouth. He hummed low in his throat, his eyes glistening and staring up at him as he took him deeper, the vibrations of his groans carrying along Draco’s shaft. He rubbed the twitching ring of Draco’s hole teasingly, not enough to venture in, just enough to make him gasp and push forwards into his mouth, his balls slapping against Harry’s chin. His free hand slid around to press into the small of Draco’s back, coercing him backwards and forwards in a subtle rhythm.  
  
  
  
Just as a tortured groan left Draco’s lips, Harry slipped off the tip wetly, his tongue gliding generously up and down the veins on the underside. “Hnn, that’s it, fuck my mouth until you cum,” he panted, before swallowing him almost to the base. Above him, Draco trembled.   
  
  
  
Draco fell forwards then, his hands supporting him while his cock remained in Harry’s mouth. The fingers at his backside slid in a little. He shuddered on them but didn't stop, and began urgently fucking Harry’s mouth. “Merlin!” He groaned, moving his cock in and out impatiently. “Suck it, suck it, fuck it…! Harry…!”   
  
  
  
Draco was unaware of the view the position permitted Harry. He didn’t realise that the his eager thrusts were tilting Harry’s head back in such a way, that he could see Draco’s entire underside, see one of his hands reach up to pluck his own nipple. Oh, how Harry smiled around that cock and Draco felt Harry suck harder suddenly, not knowing that it was encouragement.  
  
  
  
“Hmm, come on,” Harry coerced huskily, drawing back to fist the thick erection now hanging over his face. “Let it out, let it out on me – cum for me.” He watched Draco’s eyes, so clouded with passion, widen at his words at that cock pulsed in his hand, verging on climax. “Come on, Draco, show me – show me what no one else gets to see?” Draco’s face, his body, uninhibited by trouble or worry or the need for that mask of complacency. Only he got to see him like this, every, and only now was he appreciating that.  
  
  
  
“Bloody hell! I’m close! Soon!” Draco flinched, humping Harry’s hand hopelessly. Suddenly it was as if every muscle tightened and thrummed like a plucked string of a harp. He could feel the burning pleasure ripple through his body. He could feel himself reaching that intense, pure white completion only Harry could give him. His blond locks fell forwards into his face as his head crashed to the duvet, his lower body still hovering over Harry, his cock swelling, in sight of the goal that he was so near.   
  
  
  
“C-C-Cumming!” Draco groaned, his whole body giving a final spasm and he spilled his musky, hot fluid over his husband. It splashed over Harry’s face and his glasses, dripping over his nose as he reached down and squeezed every last drop out onto his husband’s face.  
  
  
  
Harry gasped, his tongue sweeping out to gather the fluid nearest his lips and he kept his eyes closed, but heard Draco’s fluttering, gasp-broken laughter. “You like covering scrawny boys with glasses in your cum, hm?” Harry answered that laugh, laying his hand flat against the sheets to summon his wand. “ _Tergeo_!” He chanted, and the sticky spendings were gone from his face. He blinked up at a spent Draco contentedly, leaning up to suck the last droplets from his oversensitive prick.  
  
  
  
Draco let out a sound between a chuckle and a hiss and he drew back, plucking his cock from Harry’s eager lips. “Sensitive?” Harry asked huskily as Draco’s weight left his chest, that pale body laying in the sheets beside him and re-wrapping him in his arms. He struggled to get comfortable, eventually settling on his side with the soft curve of his stomach pressing into the blond’s toned abdomen. His eyes fluttered shut, and he felt his muscles relax, as if a wave of calm had swept over him when he felt those settling breaths disturb his hair gently. “Nice?” He asked quietly, when the ecstatic pleasure had faded and only the warm glow remained.  
  
  
  
“Yeah,” Draco hummed, leaning into those fingers, the glowing aftermath still rippling through his body. “J-Just for your information, you're the only scrawny boy with glasses that gets to do that,” Draco laughed dazedly. He leant up then, looking Harry in the eyes, suddenly quite serious.   
  
  
  
“So, you want to stay then?” He asked. He needed to hear it, directly from his lips, he didn't want Harry to stay just because now he knew Draco wanted him to. He had to know. Had to hear the exact words.  
  
  
  
Harry blinked at him curiously. “I want to stay,” he said, plainly, clearly. “I don’t know what I feel for you, can’t put it into words but I want to stay.” He paused then, scanning the way Draco’s expression changed, softening into almost vulnerability, his eyes shining as if mesmerised. Pressing his head on the pillows, Harry raised a hand to smooth the sex-mussed locks back down to Draco’s head, the pad of his thumb caressing that flushed cheek gently.   
  
  
  
“I want to stay,” he repeated again, softer than before, and he tipped his forehead to rest against Draco’s, remaining there peacefully. A firm thump against his insides made both him and Draco jump, and after a moment of surprise, Harry let out a sigh. “She better not keep me awake in revenge for that, an afternoon kip sounds really nice right now…”  
  
  
  
Draco held Harry close, content, there was no greater feeling then, than laying there beside him. A rush of emotions swept through him, separate to the aftershocks of his orgasm. He had never imagined he could feel this way, this light and safe. Harry wanted to stay. Wanted to be a… _a family._  
  
  
  
Draco found himself flushing at the mere thought of a family, a real family. With Harry. His arms tightened around him again, bringing him as close as physically possible. He couldn't believe it was possible after all these years of unrequited love he had been taught to feel ashamed of, but he was falling more and more…   
  
  
  
_And some day he may feel it back,_ Draco thought, closing his eyes.  
  
  
  
  
  
~ _To Be Continued..._


	18. Memoirs of a Shadowed Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to avoid confusion, because dates are mentioned in this chapter, please bear in mind we are using the timeline according to the books, which means, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were both born in 1980, putting their first year at Hogwarts in 1991 :) This has been the timeline worked out from J.K Rowling's references to certain events, but it's not really important so if for some reason you don't like the dates then just ignore the extremely brief mentions of it lol XD
> 
> And just to warn you, there are some potentially disturbing and upsetting scenes in this chapter. be warned. Graphic Torture, Humiliation and Non-Consensual scenes lay ahead.

[Eighteen]  
  
 **Memoirs of a Shadowed Mind**  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Harry winced as he gulped down the nutrition potion in one swig. He thought the taste would never become bearable, no matter how often he took them. Setting the empty vial back on the bureau in their lounge area, he moved back through to the bedroom, where Draco was still getting dressed. He frowned as he watched the blond’s back as the man knotted his tie expertly, his face lightening as he caught Harry’s gaze in the mirror.  
  
  
  
“Don’t look at me like that, you look like a sulking kitten,” Draco chided with a smirk, seeing Harry’s face knot in a scowl this time.  
  
  
  
“You’re the prissy house-cat,” Harry retorted, moving over to drop himself on the plush cushions on the windowseat. The sun rained in through the glass, catching Draco’s pale skin and halo of hair in just the right way to make his cheeks colour.   
  
  
  
“You’ve got me too attached to you,” Harry murmured under his breath as he diverted his gaze. The memory of last night, when he had been honest, when he had finally put them both at ease by admitting he wanted to stay came flooding back, and the crystal-clear recollection of Draco’s expression only made him flush darker. “I’ll be glad when Christmas gets here – then you’ll have to stay home.”  
  
  
  
He hated the hormones for making him so… _needy_ on occasion. _Sulking_ , he thought, _I’m not sulking…_  
  
  
  
“How greedy you are for me suddenly,” Draco teased, buttoning his robes and turning towards him. “Right, I have to leave.”  
  
  
  
“But it's ten minutes earlier than you usually leave,” Harry grumbled, causing Draco to look at him sharply.   
  
  
  
“Harry?” He asked, remembering the last time Harry had been ungracious about him leaving for work, something horrible had happened. He walked closer then, placing one hand on his forehead and staring into those brilliant eyes. “Are you feeling alright?”  
  
  
  
Harry blinked at him owlishly for a moment, before glancing away again. “I’m fine, really I’m just…” He rain his palms along his forearms distractedly. “I feel anxious this morning, like something is… I have this gut feeling is all, but you should go, it’s important, today right? And Eric will show up soon for babysitting duties.” He saw Draco raise a brow disturstingly, evidently not believing his brave face. Harry pressed a kiss to his lips to distract him.  
  
  
  
“I’m fine, honestly. Might even drop in on Hermione and Ron and ask if they want to go Christmas shopping with me.” There, that was quick-thinking. He had been contemplating it for a few days anyway. But then, his clever plan left him with only another concern. What the hell did you get the Malfoy who had everything?  
  
  
  
“What exactly do you _want_ for Christmas?” He asked, imagining all the fine baubles and fancy trinkets he’d be getting from his family and how he, Harry could possibly begin to get something that would compare?  
  
  
  
Well, he had successfully distracted them _both_ from his prior unease now…  
  
  
  
“I'm not really sure, I have all the things I want and need,” Draco stated. “You don't have to bother getting me a gift. I'm not really a fan of Christmas anyway,” Draco stated. Memories of the times when his parents had kept him upstairs during the festivities so that they could entertain guests had dampened the holidays somewhat.    
  
  
  
But Draco saw Harry’s lips drop into a frown then and he sighed. “Look, whatever you get for me is fine. Don’t worry about it so much.”  
  
  
  
“But I – you’re going to get me something, aren’t you?” He asked, and Draco made no move nor word in answer, but Harry already knew. “I’ll find something you like. I’m the Chosen One you know – filled with magical talents.” He saw Draco smirk and the blond kissed his cheek before moving over to the door. “Have a good day at the office, Dear,” Harry teased as he moved over to the table to pluck the comb Draco had been using previously, starting to tame his unruly hair.   
  
  
  
Once the door had closed, he turned back to the mirror, wishing it _wasn’t_ one of those days his hair decided to stick up at all angles. “Bloody perfect Draco with his perfect hair – _you’d_ better take after him aesthetically,” he grumbled under his breath, without any malice. He fumbled the comb in his frustration and watched it tumble to the floor and skid out of sight under the heavy curtain near the corner.  
  
  
  
 _I wonder if being pregnant is supposed to make you clumsy,_ he thought bending slowly (and with no little amount of difficulty) to sweep the bottom of the curtain aside in search of the comb. He soon forgot the comb, however when he saw it. He straightened, eyes fixed on the box as he pushed the curtain aside fully. The door leading down to Draco’s dungeon? _The place where he…_  
  
  
  
He cut himself off, remembering his time there all too well and he tipped his head in confusion at the sight of the box. _He must have been really anxious for me not to find it if he hid it here,_ Harry thought. Draco must have known that the dungeon would be the last place he would go. Letting his body and curiosity guide him, he carefully lifted the box, finding it surprisingly light and brought it over to the bed. His breath was oddly laboured as he reached for the lid.   
  
  
  
_Draco didn’t want you to see it, you should stop,_ his mind hissed in warning.  
  
  
  
 _He can’t keep secrets from me,_ Harry replied, his fingers working the knots on the string binding the box lid. But as soon as he plucked the last tie from it, the lid sprang off, a ethereal, blueish glow dazzling him. He blinked away the stars of shock from his eyes and stared down into an almost _liquid_ surface, his hands tracing the circular rim of the pensieve.  
  
  
  
 _A pensieve,_ he thought. _That’s what Snape gave Draco? A pensieve? But what would Draco need it for?_ He stopped then, the pads of his fingers poising on the lid as if frozen to the intricate surface. This was the exact pensieve that had sat in Dumbledore’s office. Snape had given it to Draco, and Draco had asked for it around the same time that…  
  
  
  
 _That the nightmares began,_ his mind supplied and his attention slipped to the dozens of tiny vials sitting in the small rack in the bottom of the box.   
  
  
  
Moving the penseive aside a little to better glance down into the rack, Harry plucked a few of the empty crystal containers up to see little labels on each, Draco’s neat scrawl labelling the first one as: _Age Eleven._  
  
  
  
Draco at age eleven, perhaps? That seemed to make sense. And then he realised. Snape had put his memories in the penseive so that they would not be there during his lessons with Harry – Draco had asked for the pensieve when he had begun suffering fierce nightmares, night terrors about things he would not discuss with Harry, though they had him writhing and screaming in the sheets…  
  
  
  
 _Draco’s worst memories? Bad enough to hide them away?_ He thought, looking at the surface of the penseive, hazy, incoherent images glistening from within. The vials were empty. Draco had thrown them into the pensieve, never to be glanced upon again, no doubt. _You have no right!_ His mind spat, as his face loomed over the surface, toeing the line that he was contemplating in crossing.  
  
  
  
 _Draco hid them for a reason! He wants to forget them!  
  
  
  
But that’s not healthy, _ he argued, _he needs to face them, he needs my help and I can’t help him if I don’t know!  
  
  
  
He doesn’t _ want _you to know!  
  
  
  
He doesn’t know what he wants!  
  
  
  
You’re no better than his father.  
  
_  
  
He stopped at that. No, he wasn’t controlling Draco. Draco could do what he wanted. _I need to help him,_ he thought. _He’s done everything for me, he needs me to do this for him now – he needs me to understand him!  
  
_  
  
And before his conscience could change his mind, he plunged his face into the surface. He screamed as he fell, tumbled down through the ceiling of a dark room and landed squarely on his feet. He stumbled, but righted himself easily (despite his bump) his eyes darting around the room. It’s lavish dress and furniture told him it was Malfoy manor and when he caught sight of the calendar by the mirror he saw the date _September 1st 1991_ circled with glaring red ink.   
  
  
  
_Draco is eleven then,_ he thought, crossing the dark room and approaching the lump in the sheets, squinting down to affirm his fist assumption. The boy slumbering under the sheets was most certainly his husband’s eleven-year-old counterpart. He smiled slightly at the sight of Draco, fast asleep. He’d forgotten how his face had looked this young…  
  
  
  
Then his brow furrowed. He had always assumed that the suite he now shared with Draco had _always_ been Draco’s room, but evidently, this was proof that it was not. He felt an anxious lump rise in his throat. _He chose another room because something happened here, something so bad that he fled his childhood room as soon as he–_  
  
  
  
The door swung open, but, as this was Draco’s memory and his current body was stills lumbering, the person who stepped through it wasn’t quite complete. The outline was a dark blur, faceless, indentityless, and Harry stiffened as the shape swept across the room with all the silence and chilling grace of a dementor. The low screech of the door closing all by itself roused the blond angel in the bed.  
  
  
  
“Hmmnn?” The boy, Draco murmured sleepily, turning to glance about his room, but, still sleep-swept, the vision now sliding onto the bed did not clear. Harry felt his jaw quiver as his teeth ground into it. He had a vile, sickening guess as to what was about to happen.  
  
  
  
“Ssssshhhhhh…!” The shadow purred as it crawled over the bed, completely imprisoning Draco’s little body. “You will be on your way to Hogwarts tomorrow, will you not? You will be a big boy tomorrow, you make me _very proud_ …”  
  
  
  
That voice was silken, snake-like – _sickening_. He watched as the large body slowly became lighter, skin-cloured. He was becoming visible because Draco was realising who he was – the Draco in this memory, that is. Harry stepped forward, his arms shaking. Why couldn’t he just tear the bastard off of him?!  
  
  
  
Long, pallid fingers slid over Draco’s horrified face, his small mouth opening, quivering in fear. “I – I don’t… Mother has already said I must sleep early tonight!” The little boy declared, “I will get into trouble with–”  
  
  
  
“ _Hush_ ,” the snake-like shadow hissed, those hands sliding down Draco’s front opening his blue pyjamas fluidly. His touch was slow and gentle, like the shadow was taming a wild bird. Harry had to admit, that’s what Draco looked like right now. Like a sparrow caught in a wire, struggling for freedom…  
  
  
  
Then, those hands slid lower, tugging Draco’s bottoms with them, and the boy whimpered, turning his face away into the safety of the pillows.  
  
  
  
“This can be our little secret,” the slowly lightening darkness purred, a tongue running along Draco’s ear before the invader turned the small boy onto his belly. “Be a good boy, Draco,” the voice said, coercing Draco into small, whimpering whispers as the shape bent over his back, arranging Draco’s lower half up onto his knees so that his backside was vulnerable to those big hands overpowering him. “You want to make me proud, do you not?”  
  
  
  
“Y-Yes…yes father,” the boy whispered.  
  
  
  
“NO!” Harry shouted, leaping forwards but passing through _Lucius’s_ now fully visible body. He screamed. He clawed at those arms but his body just passed through them both. “Stop it!” Harry demanded, but nothing happened and Lucius’s long locks swept down over Draco’s trembling back as he massaged the globes of his bottom. A sickening, tell-tale _zip_ sound went through the air and Harry’s jaw clenched so hard it bled. He kept pushing, kept shoving but his body was incorporeal and useless to Draco now.  
  
  
  
 _He is eleven years old!!! A cocky, bratty eleven-year-old! How could he…? When I first saw him, I could never have imagined he suffered this!_  
  
  
  
He felt guilt like he had never known crash down like a crescendo of rock and debris – as if the ceiling had collapsed on him. He wished it would. Draco hadn’t admired his father, he hadn’t used him as a shield or protection – hadn’t run to him for protection. He was afraid of him. _And Snape knew,_ Harry thought, _that’s why I’m here, why he gave me to Draco. Draco needed me, to save him from Lucius._  
  
  
  
“Good boy, put your legs together.” That voice ripped through his reverie and he growled in physical _pain_ at witnessing this. He saw Lucius sliding his large, heavy erection in between Draco’s shivering thighs. It didn’t make it any better that he was rutting against him like a dog instead of fucking his arse, it was still rape, of his eleven-year-old son!  
  
  
  
“You sick prick,” Harry snarled, but the two on the bed could not see him, not all these years into the past.   
  
  
  
“Tighter,” Lucius purred, caressing his son’s bowed back like a fearful dog. “Good boy, squeeze me. You want me to be happy with you, do you not, Draco?”  
  
  
  
“Y-Yes, b-but…” Little Draco stuttered, shivering at the menacing organ raping his thighs. Lucius leant over his son, his arms sliding underneath him, around his neck, claiming his meal, suffocating him. He sank, snake-link into his son's skin as he whispered into his ear in a slow, ominous tone. “Tch, no _‘but’_. You want to make me proud, don’t you, Draco?”  
  
  
  
Draco nodded minutely then, and Lucius’s lips curved up in a smile as manic as an evil clown’s. “Hmmmm, well then squeeze me with your thighs and move backwards. That’s it, and then forwards…” His manipulative, long ungloved fingers reached underneath Draco’s stomach, dragging their cruel touch over it in gentle, subtle circle – in snake-like slithers. His touch slid down lower and lower, until they reached his adolescent member.   
  
  
  
“F-Father, n-no… _please_ , I…I have to…to sleep, Mother will be–”   
  
  
  
“Narcissa is fast asleep boy. She knows that I'm telling you a… _bed time story_. She knows.”   
  
  
  
To Harry, a grown man, the look on Lucius’s face suggested Narcissa actually had no idea. Though it was obvious past-Draco couldn't see it.   
  
  
  
“S-She knows?” Draco asked, confused, asharp pain of betrayal slicing into his chest. His own mother knew and she wasn't doing anything about it? She wouldn't. She…  
  
  
  
“You're… You're lying!”   
  
  
  
Lucius took hold of Draco’s hair then, shoving him face-first into the pillow and shoving his cock with brutal force force between those thighs. A large hand held Draco’s head in the pillow, so that the boy struggled for air. Leaning down, as if to offer some invisible comfort, Harry was sure he could see tears staining that usually proud, arrogant little face. It broke him.  
  
  
  
“Don't disappoint me, Draco. Don't cry. Don't sob like you are weak!” Lucius began. “You cannot be weak, you must not cry!”  
  
  
  
“No… No…!” Draco sobbed, feeling one of those long fingers slide along his lower spine. He knew what was about to happen, even at this age he knew. Harry watched, mortified.  
  
  
  
“That’s it, my perfect child, I am making you strong, I am moulding you into perfection. Do _not_ cry out, _ever_.” Lucius’s words were a vile, tender poison and he reached down, massaging the slit between Draco’s cheeks roughly. “You will hurt and you will ask for more because it will make you stronger. Is that understood? You want to be stronger, don’t you?” Lucius’s fingers slid in then, stretching Draco’s small hole roughly until the boy screamed. The man tipped his head back, groaning in restrained pleasure, basking in it for a moment before a third finger pressed in with such brutality that Draco choked on his own cries.  
  
  
  
“You _do not cry_ ,” Lucius hissed, “You will feel humility and you feel pain but never cry. You do what?” His voice was smooth as marble, as if he were not committing such vile acts. He pressed in harder then, and Harry flinched a at the sight of blood trickling down Draco’s thighs.   
  
  
  
“What do you do, Draco?” Lucius demanded, firmly this time.  
  
  
  
“I DO NOT CRY! Father, _please,_ I do not cry!” Draco screamed, reaching behind himself to try and push Lucius away. It was useless, however, for the older man seized Draco with blood-stained fingers knotting in his tidy blond locks, dragging his tear-streaked face to his throbbing hardness. Lucius said nothing then, rubbing his son’s face cruelly over his leaking cock, ignoring Draco’s protests, rutting against his face as if he were a toy for his pleasure. And then, his vile, wretched climax burst from the ugly tip, coating Draco’s young face with the white substance.   
  
  
  
Draco choked as it painted his skin and struggled against the hold in his hair, the last few spurts dribbling onto the dark green bedding. Lucius inhaled through his teeth with disdain.  
  
  
  
“You spoiled your bed, Draco, your mother won’t be pleased…”  
  
  
  
Draco shook his head fearfully, his hair still snagged in his father’s cruel fingers. “No, Father–”  
  
  
  
“Lick it up,” Lucius commanded coldy, his eyes stern and stone-like in the dimness, and when Draco didn’t seem to understand, Lucius threw his head into the white puddle on the sheets. “What do we make the elves do if they spill something on the floor?”  
  
  
  
Draco looked at him unsurely, his eyes still gleaming with the tears of broken innocence and fear. “W-We…we make them clear it up…”  
  
  
  
“How, Draco?” Lucius hissed, “Show me how. Or I will show your mother what a mess you have made – I’ll tell her how you failed your lesson with me tonight…”  
  
  
  
Harry flinched at that, cringing inside, bile rising up his throat like acid scalding his insides as the young Draco lowered his head slowly, _shamefully_ and lapped at the vile fluid with his tongue. “No,” Harry gasped, tears of horror stinging his eyes. He couldn’t bear this, couldn’t bear to see Draco harmed like this, and this was but _one_ of the memories!   
  
  
  
“S-Stop it…” He breathed, unable to handle it. Draco endured this, endured this from the man that was supposed to love and care for him…  
  
  
  
Everything blurred then, changing, another shattering memory starting and then another and another. Draco’s eleventh Christmas, his summer holidays, terrible tortures that made Harry’s head spin.  
  
  
  
He swallowed deeply then, as the visions filtered through his subconscious. Draco, slowly grew older with each image that entered his mind. Then, the next began and Harry knew, straight away, this was the year he had faced Riddle’s ghost in the Chamber of Secrets. The year, he, Harry, had first met Lucius Malfoy in Flourish and Blotts. Draco was that little bit older now, standing sullenly in an empty classroom with his father, his head tipped to the floor.  
  
  
  
“I heard, Draco, that you haven't been doing very well in lessons, hmmm?” The Malfoy patriarch said, cornering the small blond. “Professor Snape seems to favour you, but the other teachers seem less than impressed with your efforts.”  
  
  
  
Suddenly, the door behind Draco opened, a flustered, apprehensive Severus Snape freezing in the doorway. He steeled his expression but Harry knew that Snape knew _exactly_ what he was interrupting. _He’s interrupting on purpose_ , Harry thought, an overwhelming surge of gratitude for the man swelling in his belly.  
  
  
  
“What’s going on in…? Oh, Lucius,” Snape feigned surprise, surveying the scene carefully. Snape stood awkwardly on the threshold, seeing the man looming over his son, his cruel eyes burning with something that left a bad taste in Snape’s mouth.  
  
  
  
“Severus, do you mind?” Lucius sneered, “Draco and I were just having a…private lesson.”  
  
  
  
Snape bowed his head politely. “Well, if I may, Lucius, I have told you of how well Draco has–”   
  
  
  
“Leave!” Lucius demanded, causing Severus to move back and nod.  
  
  
  
“Yes, very well.” The dark professor removed himself at once, albeit reluctantly. Harry found himself reaching his hand out in the memory once again. He didn't want Snape to leave, but at the same time he knew why he had agreed so hastily. He knew Draco would be punished if he made things difficult…   
  
  
  
“I'll make sure the door is locked this time,” Lucius assured his son, and the door clicked audibly behind them with a flick of his wand. “Turn around and pull down your trousers, Draco,” Lucius commanded. Draco slowly moved around (so his head was facing the wall), trembling and fumbling with his belt until it loosened enough for him to slide his trousers off.  
  
  
  
Lucius surveyed him with a cruel smirk. “Hmmmm, bend over.”   
  
  
  
The boy bent at the waist, the way he knew how, the way that wouldn’t get him punished, the way his father called _‘perfection’_. He knew the drill. Reaching around he spread his own cheeks wide apart with his hands, his cheeks flushing with shame and his eyes clouding. But he didn’t cry.   
  
  
  
Harry sneered with revulsion as he saw Lucius Malfoy bring a chair closer, sitting himself on it behind Draco and rapping on the boy’s cheek with the glistening, snake-shaped head of his cane. Draco didn’t flinch. _He has had a year of practice,_ Harry realised, feeling quite sick at the complacency, the blankness on Draco’s face.   
  
  
  
“Beautiful, Draco,” Lucius purred, using the head of the snake to stroke the ornament wedged tightly inside Draco’s arse. Draco flinched, but made no sound. Lucius was trying to provoke him. “You have kept this in since you got on the train?” The man asked and Draco nodded frantically. A wicked smile spread across Lucius’ face. “Yes, you held it in quite nicely, despite the fact that you’ve never had one this big. You took the first to earn your new broom, didn’t you Draco?”  
  
  
  
Harry’s eyes widened. He’d goaded Malfoy, he’d told him his father bought his way onto the team, spoilt him. But Draco… Draco had _earnt_ that broom – like this? Harry shuddered to think what the boy had to do to earn his Christmas presents, he had said he hated Christmas after all…  
  
  
  
And then, he remembered it, the disgust, the expression on Lucius Malfoy’s face when Draco had lost against him, Harry, in the first match of their second year…  
  
  
  
“No!” He gasped, his voice broken and useless in his throat.  
  
  
  
“And you wasted my gift, didn’t you, Draco? This big one was your punishment, do you understand?”  
  
  
  
This time, Draco nodded frantically and Lucius smiled at the smell of Draco’s fear, at the way his spread thighs still trembled after all this time. “Good,” the elder Malfoy admonished, pushing hard at the base of the butt-plug buried in Draco’s arse, making Draco emit a small, wheezing breath. Lucius tugged his wand free from the sheath of his cane then, gesturing over Draco’s lower half.  
  
  
  
“Since you kept it in like I told you, I’ll reward you – _Delugero_!”  
  
  
  
Harry knew what that spell was and he watched Draco jump as no doubt cold lubrication burst inside him, Harry saw Draco’s sore, abused ring of muscle clench around the toy in reflex, and the lube squirted out the side with an embarrassing noise.  
  
  
  
“No!” Draco cried out this time, wincing and humiliated by the sound. Lucius smirked wickedly, sheathing his wand in the cane once more and taking his seat, giving himself the perfect view.  
  
  
  
“Yes,” he hissed, “You’ll reach behind yourself, you’ll fuck yourself with it until I am satisfied you’re ready for your punishment,” Lucius instructed coolly, and Harry’s eyes widened. This _wasn’t_ the punishment?! He flicked his gaze to the twelve-year-old Draco, who was reaching behind himself, using the small table against the wall to support himself as he grabbed the base and drew it out, only to slide it back in.  
  
  
  
“Faster,” Lucius said, cold as stone. Draco did as instructed. Another, slick, embarrassing noise of air and lube in Draco’s loose hole filled the air again. Harry looked away, giving Draco some semblance of dignity left, but he heard the boy give a dry sob at the humiliating sounds leaving him.  
  
  
  
“It hurts!” Draco huffed, feeling the sheer girth of the toy making his insides ache. His hand trembled and he was sure his insides were bleeding, they had to be after keeping it in this long. His father always healed him, though, never allowing permanent damage, always wanting a blank canvas to begin on the next time…  
  
  
  
His hand slowed and his father snapped. “I said faster, Draco. Do not let me down again, or your punishment will be worse.”  
  
  
  
Draco moved his hand back round, forcing that agonising shape back up his rectum, before pulling it back out again with a drizzle of lube splashing down on the floor below.   
  
  
  
“Hmm, thats it,” The older Malfoy purred. “That’s it…”  
  
  
  
Lucius just sat there, caressing the head of the cane thoughfully, as if plotting his next move. Harry moved closer to Draco, nearer to his face, bringing his incorporeal hand up to ghost over the boy’s agonised face. If only he could touch him, tell him it wouldn’t always be like this. _I should have married you sooner,_ Harry thought in despair, _I should have gotten pregnant sooner – I should have saved you sooner!_  
  
  
  
“Enough.”  
  
  
  
Harry knew Lucius and Draco could not see him, but the sudden announcement made him jump nonetheless. He noticed then, as he glanced back, that Lucius had pulled his wand from the hilt of the snake’s head in his cane. Even Harry swallowed hard.  
  
  
  
“Pull it out, Draco, slowly mind – your final punishment is coming.”  
  
  
  
Draco let out a pained gasp as he pulled the huge phallic toy from his abused hole, letting it drop uselessly to the floor, his chest heaving and his pink rim raw and gaping.  
  
  
  
“You remember, don’t you, my son? You remember to ask for more even though it hurts – to show courage?” Lucius watched Draco nod and set the diamond-encrusted head of the cane on the floor, holding his now separated wand aloft. “ _Severiverto_!” Lucius chanted darkly and a loud hissing noise filled the air. Harry watched Draco jump in fear and turn his head a little, his grey eyes swelling with terror at the newly transfigured serpent hissing at him from the floor.  
  
  
  
“Don’t move you little coward – you are a Malfoy. You are not afraid. Stand still and be a man!” Lucius snarled, his voice raising and Draco flinched at the sound of it. “Lie with your knees pulled up tight to your belly,” the man insisted and Draco shook his head, wincing, clamping his eyes tight as he lowered himself to the floor. He lay face-down, kneeling but with his torso pressed as flat to his thighs and the floor as he could go. Knowing what his father intended, he pressed his forehead to the cool stone, reaching back to spread his sore cheeks open.  
  
  
  
“That’s it – you make me so proud when you behave, Draco. I’m making you perfect. I know what is best for you, don’t I?”  
  
  
  
Harry’s eyes widened until they _stung_ when he saw the snake approach, slithering towards Draco’s exposed opening, it’s body already unusually slick and dark, and ominous. Draco gasped in fear and pressed his body as flat as it would go. Harry knew that serpent’s tongue was tasting him. He shuddered. _Disgusting_ , he thought, watching Lucius Malfoy’s expression of sheer _pleasure._  
  
  
  
“That’s right, and you know what to say, don’t you? You know to ask for more. So ask me. Behave or I will take the lubrication away!”  
  
  
  
“I-I… _more_ ,” Draco pleaded, his rim trembling as the snake lashed at it with it’s forked tongue.  
  
  
  
“Hmm, that’s right my little prince, ask me for more.”  
  
  
  
Draco didn't ask this time. Instead, he choked when he pleaded, “Please, Father, I don't… I don't want–”   
  
  
  
“ _Don't want_?” Lucius sneered, and Draco gasped.  
  
  
  
“Don't want it to…stop…” Draco had amost said he didn't want this, was about to cry out in pain, in fear but the nerves inside him were ripping him two ways. He wouldn't disappoint his father!  
  
  
  
“One day, _Draco_ , you'll be ready for you're father's cock, my cock!” Lucius sneered. “You would like that, wouldn’t you? No more toys, no more unworthy objects. You would finally have the real thing!”  
  
  
  
Draco bit down on his lip hard as he nodded shamefully, giving his father what he wanted. Harry saw his face, the tear-stained expression told him that he didn't want it, any of it.   
  
  
  
“I'll give it to you,” Lucius continued in a low hiss. “Don't you worry, I have more for you, so much more…”   
  
  
  
Suddenly. The memory twisted again, making Harry feel quite woozy, his already unsteady stomach lurching as the world spiralled into other memories. Visions. Countless ones filled his mind, each more debauched and sinful than the other, showing him Draco of all different ages. They must have been chaotically thrown in here in Draco’s desperation to be rid of them for they were in no order, and so when he spiralled back into stillness, he found himself tumbling down into darkness. As his vision steaded, however, as the roar of crowds sounded from all around him, he knew where he was…  
  
  
  
The Quidditch World Cup!  
  
  
  
He could hear the deafening chant of _‘KRUM! KRUM!’_ making the stands shake, hear the roar of the crowds and the sounds of the match overhead. He was in the bleachers, on the ground, far, far below where his past self would be at this time and he searched the dimness for sign of Draco – he couldn’t be far, this was his memory after all.  
  
  
  
And there he was.  
  
  
  
“… _bragging,_ Draco,” came Lucius’s voice and Harry approached, seeing Draco bent over, clinging to the support beam lest he fall on his face in the dirt from the sheer _force_ of his father thrusting into him. Harry cringed at the sight, Draco wasn’t crying, not aloud but there were tears on his lashes, as his father brutally raped him. And what Harry heard next stalled Harry’s steps…  
  
  
  
“Bragging about our connections. Bragging about your station, your _perks_ like that, so shameless and don’t think I do not know why – do not think I am _blind,_ ” his voice was cruel and hard and he reached forwards seizing the back of Draco’s hair and yanking his head back hard until Draco could scarcely breathe for the pressure on his throat. “I saw your eyes,” Lucius spat in his son’s ear. “ _Potter_ – staring at _Potter_ like a lovestruck _whelp_! I saw you boasting for him, _wanting him…_ You want him like _this_ , Draco? You want to give him what I give you?!”  
  
  
  
“It’s – It's not like that!” Harry heard Draco insist desperately.  
  
  
  
“You cannot lie to me, Draco! His father said coldly. “Look at you, _filth_. I can't even look at your face. I can't believe you are actually… What is this? Y-You are hard over him?”   
  
  
  
“NO!” Draco snapped, swatting his father's hand away while his eyes struggled to hold back the tears.  
  
  
  
“Do _not_ cry, Draco, we never cry. You never cry.”  
  
  
  
Draco swallowed hard. He didn't hate this man, his father, no matter what he had suffered. What he felt, he didn't understand. He couldn't hate him, but it was something close to hate. As close as possible.  
  
  
  
“Is this why you brought me here? So you could torment me?”  Draco asked, daring.  
  
  
  
Lucius’s face twisted into that evil smirk and Harry had to step closer to hear the wicked, low whisper that left his lips. “Yes. I did. How clever of you to realise at last. I’ve seen this obsession grow, Draco and I will not allow it, I will cure you of it – no son of mine will fall and tremble at Potter’s feet. He brought down our Lord – you fool, you _betray_ me with your useless, weak heart, with your treacherous little prick…!”  
  
  
  
Harry’s eyes widened and he flew forwards as Lucius pressed the tip of his wand into Draco’s erection. Draco went dead still.  
  
  
  
“It’s never been hard for me, has it? Never, but you saw him – you _wanted_ him and you thought about him while I was inside you. How _dare_ you?! You’re mine. _Mine_ you silly little boy!” He jabbed Draco’s cock so hard with the wand that it wilted and Draco cried out. Lucius snarled, “Perhaps I should hex the useless thing off for all the use it does me – you, it seems to get you into trouble does it not? What do you say, shall I remove it for you, _precious_?”  
  
  
  
“No, please, _please_! I'm sorry, please!” Draco begged, he was meant to be perfect wasn’t he? He was meant to be beautiful. How could he be beautiful if he didn’t have his limbs in the end? He couldn't. He dared to hope, to dream he could have what he longed for one day, but if Lucius ruined him any further… If Lucius, his _father_ took away the only thing he had to offer…  
  
  
  
“Please! I beg you, F-Father! I'll – I'll be harder for you next time, I – I promise!”  
  
  
  
“You beg so prettily, son, you only beg for me, don’t you? You only bend at your knee for me and our Lord, isn’t that right?”  
  
  
  
Draco nodded frantically, exhaling shakily in relief when the wand was removed from his privates.   
  
  
  
“Now, be honest with me, my perfect child – tell me. Tell me about _your_ Harry Potter. _Tell me_ … Tell me why you admire him, why you want him. Is it because he is the _Golden Boy?_ Don’t lie to me, you know I’ll _know._ Tell me how you feel about him.”  
  
  
  
Harry winced. Draco was being punished for loving him. It was suddenly all-too clear why he was so vicious, so verile and malicious when they had first been together. Draco had been handed Harry – everything he had ever wanted, but also everything Lucius Malfoy had taught him to be ashamed of. _He loved me,_ Harry realised, his hand caressing his belly carefully, trying to soothe the unease swelling within. _He loved me and he hated that he loved me. He hurt me because Lucius taught him that he shouldn’t love me. He thought hurting me would make it stop but it didn’t…_  
  
  
  
“No wonder you want this baby,” Harry said aloud, despite knowing Draco could not hear. He understood now, every moodswing, every torture, every scowl. He understood Draco perfectly.   
  
  
  
“I-It's not… _please!_ ”  
  
  
  
The memory faded then, spiralling into dozens of others, through the years of chaos and rape and bloodshed and then, Harry found himself in a darker, more daunting place. The whites of two familiar Malfoys hair shone out amoung everything else in the moonlight and a red daunting pair of snake-like eyes stung him, like a needle through his soul. _Voldemort_. He never thought he would have to see that man again.  
  
  
  
Draco appeared older this time, his hair a more white-blond than it had been in his youth. This was Draco’s seventeen-year-old self, Harry was certain. He looked worn, as he had done the night Dumbledore had fallen, and Lucius was there, out of Azkaban. He looked as cold as ever, but with a shadow to his gaze now, that made Harry uneasy for Draco.  
  
  
  
Moving closer, the shadows receded a little and everything became brutally clear. There Draco was, his arms stretched out wide, bound mid-air, held by a magical force, like he was a man hung on a cross. Harry cringed at the image, Draco already looked so broken, his hair was dishevelled, his father's wand pressed into his neck and Lord Voldemort was looming behind him, breathing his vile taunts in Draco’s ear.   
  
  
  
“Such a perfect mix of punishment and repentance,” Voldemort hissed, a long tongue coming out to trace Draco’s delicate ear. The boy flushed, turning his face to the side but his refusal was rewarded with a flash of red light and an ugly, thick gash across his cheek. Draco screamed.  
  
  
  
“Don’t turn away from your Master!” Lucius snarled, “We failed him, son, you with Dumbledore and I at the ministry. This is our repentance. You do not cry, you do not _weep_ like a woman. You will take it and cherish our Lord’s touch that he so graces you with!”  
  
  
  
“Get off of him!” Harry screamed, his legs trembling with the sickness in his soul. “Get _off_!” But he was useless. He couldn’t help him. Voldemort’s pallid, spider-like hands spanned across Draco’s throat, his thumb and forefinger tracing the veins pulsing madly with panic there and Draco let out a dry sob, those vile hands sliding down to release him of his clothing – the only barrier between them.  
  
  
  
Suspended there, naked between his father and Voldemort, Draco looked like some sort of virgin sacrifice. Only Draco was far from that, far from innocent thanks to none-other than his father. And Harry felt more useless than ever before. He had never known this had happened. If he had, he could have helped, could have tried, but he had failed him – failed Draco. _I turned away his hand, his offer of friendship and with it any chance of saving him from this._ He watched with agony in his heart as Voldemort’s hand slid down Draco’s taut stomach, leaving angry, sharp scratches in it’s wake, until it gripped the boy’s limp member roughly.   
  
  
  
“Why do you not cry out for your father to help?” Voldemort cooed with false tenderness, lapping at the gash on Draco’s cheek. “I think I would like to hear you screaming.” He was fisting Draco’s prick hard but with no reaction from it and Harry felt wariness in him – this wouldn’t go unpunished. Draco’s head remained bowed. He winced and sobbed in his throat without tears but otherwise hung there, limp and naked like a doll, unmoving.  
  
  
  
“You don’t seem to want to work for your Master’s hand,” Voldemort said coolly, and Draco stiffened, as did Lucius.  
  
  
  
“My Lord, I am sorry he – he is–”  
  
  
  
“Calm yourself, Lucius,” Voldemort interrupted him with an air of feigned calm, lowering himself to gnaw and bite roughly as Draco’s stomach, his snake-like eyes staring up at the Blond menacingly. “You gave me this gift in repentance. Allow me to enjoy him…” He raised hand holding the wand, directing it at Draco’s temple. “Let me have a look _inside_ …”  
  
  
  
It was then that Draco screamed. Screamed bloody murder in protest and Harry knew, just knew that Voldemort was raping his mind before he got to his body, but not of his memories, of his desires, his _‘hopeless’_ fantasies. Voldemort drew back with a sinister, mocking laugh.  
  
  
  
“Such a sweet boy,” he snarled derisively, tapping his own forehead with his wand. “You want him. My nemesis, how perfectly charming, and _impossible_. You… Do you really think he will ever want you after this? After all of the rotten things you have done – are about to do with me? You carry my mark, you are _my_ servant. He will never want your touch you foolish little minion.” His noseless, twisted face warped into a manic grin. “Perhaps I shall send Mr Potter my memory of what is to come? Would you like your beloved Potter to see?”  
  
  
  
“No! No, not… Just… I… _Please_ , anything!” Draco turned away then, his eyelids clenched as bit down on his lips. What would Potter think?! “T-Touch me, My Lord, please. Take me. I am your servant. I don't want him, I want _this_!” Draco assured him. Though Voldemort could see right through him, it did not stop that evil grin from stretching across his thin mouth.  
  
  
  
Lucius flinched with Draco’s words. Obviously he too, was unconvinced, and worried about his Lord’s reaction. “My Lord,” he began. “He–”   
  
  
  
“Quiet, Lucius,” Voldermort snaped, his eyes falling back on Draco, venom burning in his otherworldly gaze.  
  
  
  
Those evil hands caressed Draco’s vulnerable nakedness, his eyes ravenous and calculating, deciding which part to devour first. “You are very stunning in your defeat, little Malfoy,” Voldemort purred, caressing his limp cock for a few moments before drawing his wand, pressing the bone shaft into the organ cruelly. “But then, you are aware of this, are you not? _Tumesco_!”   
  
  
  
Draco writhed in his bonds, crying out, his head flying back in pain as his penis swelled – by force of the spell. It hurt, it burned, it felt like every blood cell was a tiny needle…  
  
  
  
“Is this it? Is this what you would offer Harry Potter? Your weak, dirty body and your whimpering cries?” Voldemort smirked maliciously, holding his hand palm out to the shadows, and a death eater, previously hidden from Harry stepped forward, dropping a long, thin glass tube. Harry felt the sickness stir within him again, but his eyes betrayed him and remained riveted on the torture. He loathed to see Draco like this, loathed to watch and not be able to help…  
  
  
  
“Look at me, little Malfoy,” Voldemort whispered and Draco raised his gaze to him warily, a curtain of blond hair hanging in his stormy eyes. The devil raised the thin tube to Draco’s eyes, and the boy flinched. Voldemort beamed. “Do you know what this is?” He asked. “I hear your father has never used one on you?”   
  
  
  
Draco screamed as Voldemort gripped his painful erection, the simple touch pure torture, as if he were rubbing the imaginary needles into his skin. Then, the little glass tube was slipped through Draco’s lips, the Dark Lord fucking it into his mouth, the tiny, round, bulbous end in his own grasp.  
  
  
  
“Suck it, little Malfoy if you know what is good for you,” he warned, and Harry could have cried in physical pain at the agony and shame on Draco’s face as he brought his tongue out to lap vigorously at the tube. “Trained to perfection, aren’t you, little boy?” Voldemort taunted, rolling the shaft of the glass on Draco’s tongue, swirling it around needlessly wide so that Draco’s mouth was thoroughly abused, before tugging it away.  
  
  
  
It struck Harry like lightning then. He knew what was going to happen. It only made him wish he could kill Voldemort again.  
  
  
  
“Hold him,” Voldemort demanded and two death eaters swept from the shadows and held Draco’s hips fast. Harry swore he could hear Draco’s frantic heart pounding in his chest. Voldemort lowered the glass, circling the swollen head of Draco’s prick, relishing in his little cries of stifled pain, before prodding at the eye of his erection.  
  
  
  
Then Draco screamed, louder than Harry had ever heard.  
  
  
  
The glass slipped in through the hole and Voldemort grinned wickedly, tapping the bulbous end a few times before sliding a little more down into Draco’s cock.  
  
  
  
“It…it hurts!” Draco cried out, his weeping gaze turning to his father, as if beseeching him for help. Harry felt his innards knot with fury, as he watched the man sneer and turn his head away, leaving the Dark Lord to torture his son. Voldermort hissed with pleasure, watching Draco writhe with the searing pain.  
  
  
  
“Please! No! Anything but this, it…!” But Draco stopped short when the Dark Lord moved in closer, his crimson eyes glowing with menacing promise.  
  
  
  
“Are you saying no to me, boy?”  
  
  
  
“N-No, My Lord. It's just…”  
  
  
  
“Don’t ever say no to your master,” the Dark Lord warned him, sliding the tube fully into his prick, the little bulbous end resting against his swollen, agonised head. “How does that feel, Draco? Your master gave you a gift. Thank me for it and tell me how it feels…”  
  
  
  
The circle of death eaters, of monsters surrounding them chuckled darkly at Draco’s pain, at his humiliation, but amongst them, Harry saw a pair of familiar, black eyes, pale hands clenched into fists. “Snape?” Harry asked, even though the past Snape could not hear him. He stepped closer, enabling him to see the Potion’s master’s face beneath his hood, as well as the subtle movement of his hand.  
  
  
  
“What is…?”  
  
  
  
But he knew what Snape was doing, he saw him direct his wand discreetly towards Draco, heard a muffled chant, “ _Anaespero_!”  
  
  
  
Harry glanced at Draco, seeing the boy slacken in his bonds, but it could easily be seen as defeat. He was awake, he was hanging there limp and crying out softly, but Harry knew it was for effect. He saw Snape stow his wand away and Harry knew that the spell was a subtle numbing charm. Draco would be awake, would feel the humiliation and the terror, but the pain would be lessened to a numb tugging – until the spell wore off…  
  
  
  
Perhaps it was unfortunate, however, that Snape had not given Draco such a mercy, for Harry swore Draco would have passed out from the pain – and maybe unconciousness would have been more merciful. Maybe the pain was nothing in comparison to the shame, the humiliation and the fear.  
  
  
  
“Now, Draco tell me how it feels while I touch you,” Voldemort smirked wickedly, tipping his snake-like head to the death eaters around Draco. The bonds holding the blond fell immediately and he was handled like a limp doll in their hands. The Dark Lord slipped into a magically conjured chair, and Draco was directed over him, the servants easing him down…down…  
  
  
  
“NO!!!” Harry screamed tearing at his own hair. He could not watch this any longer, could not watch Voldemort rape a seventeen-year-old Draco…  
  
  
  
“It…feels…g-good. I…I love your gift!” Draco ground out through clenched teeth. His voice sounded distant, empty as if he wasn’t really there. Draco was pale, far worse than his usual pallor. No, now his skin was pure white with suffering. This was so sick, so wrong! He had had to suffer this for years – _years_ and Harry had never even known! Had never had a clue! All this while Draco had been madly in love, had dared to hope, to dream and he had paid for it with his own blood, sweat and suffering.  
  
  
  
Harry could barely stomach the _memories_ , so he could only imagine what it must have been like to live them. All the time he spent being self-centered, worried about his own problems, thinking Draco was an evil little spoilt brat. In all truthfulness, Draco had suffered, more than Harry thought he, himself had ever suffered. More than most of the people he knew. No wonder he had found him, crying that day in the bathroom. No wonder he’d given up hope, and become the stoic, bitter, _angry_ person he had been when they’d first married.  
  
  
  
“I…please… _Master_ , do it,” Draco begged shamefully, everyone’s eyes burning into him, their laughter filling his ears until he wished he could choke on his own spittle. But he had to pretend he wanted this, he didn't want to die. He was so scared. And he refused to show weakness, Malfoys were perfect. They weren’t weak.   
  
  
  
Harry saw Draco’s head roll back as the Dark Lord himself forced his way into his body and Harry flew forwards, intent on reaching him. He stood there lamely, half-merged in with one of the death eater’s arms but he didn’t care. Draco’s jaw was clenched, his eyes shining with liquid shame and Harry felt that plummeting tightness in his gut. He was going to vomit.  
  
  
  
Tears struck his own eyes, and he could not even _hope_ to have Draco’s bravery, for they flooded his cheeks like a burst dam. He reached forwards, his fingers ghosting over the pale boy’s hair, wishing he could touch him, comfort him. “I save you,” Harry promised, “I save you, Draco.”  
  
  
  
He felt his morning meal stir in his belly then, watching the humiliation streak across the blond’s face while his hands stroked over his skin without touching. Then, suddenly, he was torn upwards, up, up out of the nightmarish pensieve and thrown back onto the bedroom floor.  
  
  
  
The vision of the bedroom wavered and he got to his feet shakily, feeling the world spin. “Potion,” he gasped to himself, steadying his shaking body on the bedpost as he made for the door. He was going to vomit he knew it, but the potion might be able to steady the dizziness. He couldn’t pass out…  
  
  
  
He stumbled into the bedroom door, letting it close on it’s own behind him, but he got no further, before the world gave a sickening jerk, his stomach lurching into his throat as his body flew down to meet the dark green carpet. The contents of his stomach scalded his mouth as he retched them up on the floor, just as the fire screeched with a fiery blaze and two blurry fingers stumbled out into the room.  
  
  
  
“Harry?!” He heard Hermione scream, feeling more than seeing her and Ron bolt to his side and seize him under his quivering arms. “Oh my gosh, Harry! We wondered why you didn’t let us through – we had to use the emergency loophole you put on there for us. We thought something was wrong! Ron, help me get him into the bedroom–”  
  
  
  
“N-No!” Harry choked out as they helped him to his feet, “N-Not the bedroom – couch,” he insisted. They couldn’t see the penseive…  
  
  
  
Listening to him without question for once, they settled him on the couch by the fireless grate and a large glass of water was thrust into his hand. He downed it greedily, his body shaking with cold-sweats.   
  
  
  
“Mate, are you alright?” He heard Ron ask and Harry nodded weakly, or at least he tried to.   
  
  
  
“Harry?” Hermione said carefully, rubbing his back. “The baby, is it alright? Are you… Oh, gosh – Ron, go get Draco, quick!”  
  
  
  
“N-No! Not Draco, you can’t I…I don’t…I don’t know what to say to him. He needs to work. Don’t disturb him, he…he needs to work so that he can stay home with me at Christmas…”  
  
  
  
He heard Hermione sympathetic sigh. “Harry,” she said softly, “I think you are more important…”  
  
  
  
“No, I can’t be selfish. His work is important too. He worked hard to get where he is now.” _Financially independent from Lucius, apart from this house,_ Harry thought.   
  
  
  
“But you were vomiting. He needs to be here to look after you if you’re not well!”  
  
  
  
Ron nodded his agreement. “I can't believe he bloody left you in the first place, he’s a Malfoy, he’s rich, he doesn’t need to work–”  
  
  
  
“He still has to earn his way, Ron!” Harry spat.  
  
  
  
“Unlikely, _daddy_ probably keeps him.” He saw Harry’s eyes flare with fury then and backed away a little.   
  
  
  
“Please, you two,” Hermione intervened. “Look if you won't call Draco, I will!”  
  
  
  
“NO!” Harry protested.  
  
  
  
“Well then at least allow us to tend to you?” Harry nodded in answer to her question, while Ron remained still and quiet, looking quite awkward. “Ron, for goodness sake, get him a flannel and some cold water!” Hermione barked at her husband.  
  
  
  
Harry rolled his eyes. He was okay, just in a state of shock. He needed to reflect alone before Draco came back. He didn’t need, nor _want_ to be pampered.   
  
  
  
“Hermione, now is a really bad time…”  
  
  
  
“Harry, stop being stubborn!”  
  
  
  
“The baby is alright, I can feel her just fine – she’s fine. I’ve been sick before–”  
  
  
  
“That wasn’t morning sickness,” Hermione said sternly as Ron vanished to go fetch the flannel and water. “That was something else… Harry you’re _shaking,_ what’s the matter?”  
  
  
  
Harry shook his head. Never, never would he ever betray this, not when he had let Draco down so much already. _Not when he has been punished enough for loving me. I won’t be the one to hurt him. No one is going to hurt him again…_  
  
  
  
“Hermione, I don’t… I just felt a little dizzy. Healer O’Dempsy said that might happen if I get too stressed. I was just… I had a moment, but I am fine now. I’m fine, please, just leave Draco at work. He’ll be home in a few hours anyway.”  
  
  
  
She sighed. Harry had always been stubborn. “Well there's no arguing with you, is there?”  
  
  
  
Ron had returned with the flannel then, passing it to Hermione, who handed it to Harry, telling him to place it upon his forehead. Harry just listened of course and did it anyway. Ron slumped into the settee beside Harry, glaring at the bump. “You're getting rather fat now. It's so… _so weird_ …”  
  
  
  
Hermione shot a glare at him then. “I meant that in a nice way, it's just…we've known you since we started school, grown up together, I just find it odd that you’ve changed so much…”   
  
  
  
“Well I found it odd the way you and Hermione ended up together, and with a baby when you were such a prat,” Harry bit back.  
  
  
  
“Yeah, I suppose you're right, that’s true,” Ron laughed light-heartedly, leaning forward to place his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “You know it's only because we care about you mate. About everything with Malfoy, too, I’m sorry. I know, that I've seemed like a selfish prick at times. I know you say you're happy and I should accept that, but I just–”   
  
  
  
“ _Ron_! Just drop it!” Hermione snapped. “Can't you see he’s uneasy enough without another reminder of your issues with his life.” Her husband’s mouth snapped shut at that.  
  
  
  
Harry waited in the silence that fell for a moment, sipping the water he had been handed while Hermione wiped at his sweaty brow. The words mulled around in his head for a bit and then…  
  
  
  
“Draco offered me a way out,” he said quietly, his tone thoughtful, “He said I could go if I wanted. But I asked him to let me stay.” He heard Ron’s gasp and he raised his gaze to his two best friends. “I want to stay with him, I want to…to be a family with him. You need to know that, you need to accept it because he isn’t our enemy – I don’t think he ever was. And he’s not going away…”  
  
  
  
“How....? You could have _left_ , you bloody idiot! What are you doing asking to stay? All that man will do is make you unhappy!” Ron spat. Hermione gave him yet another meaningful glare. “ _What_?” Ron demanded of his wife, “You know its true! He's always making you miserable. Why are you even defending him?!  I mean, he even made a show of you a the party we threw for you and the baby.”  
  
  
  
Obviously the red head was not moving past the incident in the loo any time soon.  
  
  
  
“Ron, _please_?” Hermione pleaded, ever the mediator. “We didn't come here for an argument.”  
  
  
  
“Draco is the only one who _does_ care about make be happy!” Harry snarled, defensive at once. “He wants me, more than anything, always has and he was still willing to let me go to make me happy. I ruined the party by being emotional – he didn’t do anything but try to please me. He deserves better than this. _I’m the one_ that does everything… I… I’m the one that makes everything difficult, I mess everything up, I piss everyone off. And _don’t_ throw that _Stockholm syndrome_ stuff in my face either, I want to stay. I was miserable at the thought of leaving. Don’t you understand that?”  
  
  
  
He glared at Ron, and Hermione pressed the cool flannel into the back of his neck, her hand stilling in her fussing for a moment as he spoke. She remained quiet and still whilst Ron was flushing with anger. Harry pressed on. “You – you’re only worried about your stupid school-boy hatred. I overcame it. He was never on the bad side, Ron, he was caught in the middle, just trying to survive. And you’re letting the past dictate what I should and shouldn’t want. Why shouldn’t I want to be with someone who loves me?” He saw Ron cringe with disgust at the last part.   
  
  
  
“You still think he _loves you_? He bloody tortured you, you idiot!” Ron leapt to his feet then, his arms flailing with frustration as he spoke. “You're deluded! He’s making you love him, making you pretend! You're not even _gay_!” Ron continued. “You've always liked _girls_!”  
  
  
  
Hermione removed the flannel from Harry’s neck then and stood back a bit. She just wished Ron would shut up for a minute. But as always, he wasn’t in control of his mouth.  
  
  
  
“Ronald Weasley! If you don't want me to divorce you, you will silence at once! No matter what the reasons, if Harry says his happy, we as his friends should support him–”   
  
  
  
“He is only telling us that cause he doesn't want us to worry! He’s always a martyr. Of course he’s suffering Malfoy’s rank touch if it stops us from–”   
  
  
  
CRACK!  
  
  
  
Ron felt a fist smash slam into his jaw then, and for a split second everything went hazy. Then he realised, Harry had just hit him. His hand shot up immediately to tend to his cheek. He slowly turned his head back to Harry, his eyes wide and disbelieving.  
  
  
  
“I’ve seen enough proof to know his feelings are real. He has more to lose than to gain by lying about it. And if by _girls_ you mean my school-boy crush on Cho and your sister, or perhaps the few fame-seekers that have hunted me since then, then perhaps I’m better off bending over and taking it up the arse!!!” His breathing was heavy and the world was spinning again but he didn’t care. “Every time I do _anything_ you don’t approve of you make it all difficult. He wants me, unconditionally, which is more than I can say for you, my ‘best friend’ who turns on me at every stumble – when I need you most!” He stared at Ron a moment, seething and frustrated and confused. He had seen too much in such a short space of time inside the pensieve…  
  
  
  
“Look,” he said stiffly through clenched teeth, “Y-You… I’ve never had a family or a place to belong or…or anything. You’ve always had that, you’ve always had your parents who loved you no matter what stupid things you did. I never had that, I’ve never had _anything_ so raw and unconditional and selfless. I have that now. You…you have no idea what it’s like to have nothing and then suddenly be…be _wanted_ , be touched like someone wants you more than anything.”   
  
  
  
Ron was grimacing again, and Harry felt despair spiral up his gut.  
  
  
  
“I don't have time to even listen to this!”  
  
  
  
“So why the fuck did you even come in the first place?!” Harry snapped. He had seen too much, too much and he… Ron was wrong. Wrong and way out of line.  
  
  
  
“Because I thought maybe you had seen sense!”  
  
  
  
Hermione stood up then, ushering Ron to the fireplace. “Look, we will just leave. Sorry Harry, this isn't what I wanted to come here for,” Hermine apologised, dragging Ron aside. She gave Harry a fleeting, tense smile, telling him to take care of himself. Ron stormed to the fireplace and threw his floo powder down furiously, leaving Hermione, once again, to apologise for them both, before climbing in the fireplace after him.  
  
  
  
And Harry was alone again. He dropped back flat on the couch, covering his eyes with his hands. Did it make him selfish for not being able to please everyone? He seemed to have been making Draco happy, but now Ron and Hermione were…  
  
  
  
“And how can I help Draco with what I’ve seen?” He asked himself quietly, trying to push the images, the screams from his mind. Lucius Malfoy had raped and bullied his son, had tortured him, had offered him to Voldemort as a bargaining chip for his good graces. Harry felt his teeth grind together in revulsion at what the man had done. But it all made perfect sense now – everything that Draco was, everything he had ever done had been moulded from those events. “But I saved him,” he insisted, his eyes clenching shut behind his glasses as moisture flecked the lenses. “I’m going to save him…”  
  
  
  
Harry paced back into the bedroom, tending to the pensieve, placing it back n the box and shutting it tightly. All that time, Draco had really loved him, all this time, even when Harry had called him all the names under the sun. Why hadn't he noticed before?! Draco was always trying to show off after all. He couldn't believe he had been so blind, so wrapped up in his own life and problems to notice what had been happening to someone he’d seen at school nearly every day!  
  
  
  
All those tussles and squabbles back in Hogwarts made blinding, agonising sense now. From his first rejection, to his endless teasing, they had a bitter clarity now, looking back. Harry’s gut clenched painfully, when he recalled that nightmarish night in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. _I nearly killed him with Sectumsempra, when what he had needed was my offer to help,_ Harry thought, wincing as he recalled the horror, the desperation engraved into Draco’s exhausted face. That would have been such a nasty way to go. _Thank goodness for Snape,_ he thought.  
  
  
  
Carefully, he replaced the box behind the curtain and tugged the material back into place over it. Slowly slipping into thoughfulness, he slumped down on the edge of the bed. How could he face Draco now with a staight face? He was going to be home soon. Harry sank his head into the pillow and closed his eyes, eyes watering shamelessly. His chest ached with evey breath and his eyes stung as he shut them tight, struggling to shut the world out.  
  
  
  
How could he even begin to make it up to him? How could he ever wipe away all of the horrible things Draco had suffered? _I could give him six children and it wouldn’t even begin to compare to the way I’ve treated him,_ Harry thought, wincing as he recalled the fourteen-year-old Draco’s denial of his feelings as Lucius tortured him beneath the quidditch stands, where he, Harry had been just thinking what a git he was…  
  
  
  
“I’m sorry,” he breathed into the pillow, “I’m so…so sorry…”   
  
  
  
He’d been so self-obsessed, so self-centered that he had ignored Draco’s obvious cries for his attention, had turned his back on them with a sneer and lost himself in his own problems. He had called Ron selfish for not understanding Harry’s wishes, but was he, Harry, really any better? Time swept over him, he felt his body stagnating, but he didn’t move, even when the December daylight dipped beyond the horizon and left him and the room in darkness of the winter afternoon.  
  
  
  
His eyes flickered open then, a cool draft blowing through the room, awakening him. How long had he slept? He hadn’t even remembered falling _asleep_! It was almost dark outside, and he looked around to see Draco undressing himself from his work clothes. He hadn't even heard him come in? Draco threw his tie aside then, noticing movement on the bed.   
  
  
  
“You're up then?” He said, smiling. “Merlin, I'm tired. Lucky to be the one who sleeps all day, hmm?” Draco asked, waiting for Harry to wipe the crust away from his eyes and look at him properly. Draco pulled on a clean black shirt (leaving the top few buttons undone) and then a pair of clean trousers. It felt nice to be in fresh clothes. He ran his fingers through his hair and tied it back to a neat ponytail.   
  
  
  
“Eric tells me you’ve been sleeping soundly most of the day and he was reluctant to wake you,” Draco said, placing his glasses on to read a document he had pulled from his bag. Harry just watched him, unable to force his mouth to work to form an answer. “How are you feeling?” He asked, looking up at Harry occasionally from behind his paper.  
  
  
  
Harry slid his fingers under his glasses, rubbing his eyes, the lids heavy and sore from useless tears that had dried there, postponing the moment when he would have to face Draco properly. Eventually, he found some semblance of courage and leant up on his elbows to look at Draco, the wall sconces coming to life as the blond scanned the document in his grasp. “I…didn’t mean to sleep,” Harry admitted, shuffling towards the end of the bed so that he was closer to where Draco sat on one of the comfy chairs.  
  
  
  
“I… Your day was alright?” He asked, fingers digging into the sheets distractedly, anchoring him to the bed and stopping him from flying over to him and showering him with comfort. Draco would know something was wrong – Harry didn’t think that was the best way to bring the subject up…  
  
  
  
“Yeah,” he said plainly. “They’re all still quite behind at work, but we’re getting there…” His eyes ran across the paper with frustration. “Bloody hell, this is a nightmare,” He grumbled. “Our sales have dropped for fifteen percent! The bloody _Quibbler_ is catching up to us, it’s _ludicrous_!” He sighed, running his fingers through his locks frustratedly. “I might have to do a few all-nighters at work next week to catch up and get the Prophet back to the top,” He said, setting the paper down a moment to look apprehensively on his husband. “You'll be alright with that, won't you?” He asked, his eyes on him at last, watching for an outburst or mood-swing, no doubt.  
  
  
  
Harry felt all too overwhelmed as those grey eyes scanned him. Right now, he wasn't the slightest bit concerned about being left alone. He had more to worry about. “Do whatever you have to do,” he breathed, “I… Your work is important to you – it’s your independence, I – I can handle a few nights alone. I’ll drop in on Ron and Hermione or something,” he added the last part, the lie, he didn’t think he’d be welcome right now but Draco didn’t need to know about all that at this moment. “I…”  
  
  
  
Why weren’t his _bloody_ words working now he needed them most?!   
  
  
  
“I’ve been distracting you from work a lot, haven’t I?” He settled on at last, though that wasn’t the topic he needed to reach. “I’m sorry about that. I’ve…I’ve been greedy and selfish with you.”  
  
  
  
Draco raised a brow. “It's not a problem, you're carrying my child, after all,” he said, finally getting to his feet. He folded his arms, leaning against the arm of the chair as he surveyed his husband.”So how was your day, or did you sleep through it?” He enquired, his eyes sharp and patient, waiting for an answer.  
  
  
  
It took Harry a moment to answer. Too long, because Draco’s expression changed with confusion at his delayed response. “I woke up and I was going to go into Diagon Alley with Hermione and Ron, I think but…we sort of had a row,” he started, it wasn’t a lie, he was just leaving out the most important issue until his brain began working long enough for him to find the words…  
  
  
  
 _Be tactful for heaven’s sake,_ he scolded himself. He had done Draco enough damage, however indirectly. “I came in here and fell asleep after that…” He sat upright then, suddenly remembering. “Oh, I’m sorry, I threw up downstairs – I didn’t get rid of it, did Eric–?” He was cut off as Draco dropped down to his level, forcing their eyes to meet.  
  
  
  
“You’re lying to me?” Draco purred, eyes fierce with demanding fire as he leant in, almost close enough to kiss. Even though he knew Harry had been sick, and that their elf had cleaned it, he also knew that his delayed reaction was unusual. Harry was an honest fool at the best of times. He didn’t lie or keep secrets.  
  
  
  
“Well?”  
  
  
  
“I…I’m not,” Harry replied uneasily, “I’m not – I did do those things, you can go and ask Ron or Hermione, although they’re a bit annoyed with me right now, I think I–” Harry’s words were cut short as Draco seized him by his upper arms, gripping them tightly, his unwavering gaze staring into him so hard that Harry felt his own eyes water from the intensity of it. “Your nightmares, they’ve faded in the last few days,” he said at last, seeing Draco’s face visibly pale.  
  
  
  
“What?” Draco asked, watching an uneasy flicker dance across Harry’s face, eyes rolling to the side awkwardly. “I-I think it was just a phase,” Draco said sharply. “Sometimes I have episodes, nightmares, but it’s nothing to worry about. Besides, what does that have to do with this?” Now he was the one who was lying.  
  
  
  
Harry swallowed uncertainly, seeing the panic spread across Draco’s face. He loathed himself for what he was about to do, but it would be better in the long run. “I think those nightmares were brought on because of what happened with us and your father the other day,” Harry began carefully, watching Draco stiffen. “And I think…I think you believed if I saw you like that, that I wouldn’t… But I still want you, alright? I don’t think any less of you – I think _more_ of you if anything. There was no need to hide it all away.”  
  
  
  
Draco knew then what Harry had done. He shot up from the chair and darted to the corner of the room, flicking the curtain aside, his stomach took a plunge. The box had been moved slightly and Harry had definitely seen. “The pensieve, you…?” His face went deathly pale and he turned his back on him. Speechless.  
  
  
  
“No…!” He breathed out in despair, his heart clenching at the stabbing agony in his chest, he felt choked suddenly. He felt his body burst. His eyes welled up and his throat tightened. His every breath came quick, hard, panicked. “No…”  
  
  
  
Why didn’t he just keep those memories inside? Why did he…? And now this? He fell forward into the corner, sliding down the wall, his whole world imploding. Harry watched him break, falling to his knees.  
  
  
  
“Draco!” Harry gasped as he moved to him, dropping to his knees at his side and pulling Draco against his body. Draco didn’t fight, but he didn’t lean into him like he may have done that morning either. “I…I understand now, I understand everything. Why you did what you did, to me, to everyone. I… I can’t believe you…you survived it, can’t believe you still want me in spite of it. But I know what Snape meant now, when he said I needed to save you – I’m going to, do you understand?”  
  
  
  
“No! Just…” Draco blubbered senselessly, choking on his words, his head buried into his knees like a small child. The same small child he had always been since Lucius had first touched him. “Please, just don’t…!” Draco managed out. He couldn’t bring himself to look at him. He couldn’t even believe Harry had looked. How could he?  
  
  
  
“Why did you look?”  
  
  
  
Harry winced. It had been one of the greatest betrayals of all, to look, he wasn’t entirely sure why he’d done it either, just that feeling that had called to him – drawn him to it…  
  
  
  
“I…I had this feeling… Your nightmares just suddenly vanished and I just… I’m staying with you, I wanted to help you, I just… I wanted to do the things someone would do for…” he dropped his gaze to his lap. “…for their husband. I’d been a git and I wanted to – ouch!” The blond had pulled from his embrace, his fingers seizing Harry’s chin roughly and turning his face back up so that he could see him all of him. Draco’s eyes were blazing, and Harry hadn’t seen them like that for so long that it unnerved him now.   
  
  
  
“You had no right to look! You selfish prick!” Draco growled darkly, his fingers pinching that chin spitefully. “Even if you wanted to help, which you can’t, how dare you?! How _dare you_ take my life into your hands and decide for me, like everyone else! You looked for _you_ , because of your ridiculous ‘saving people’ complex!” He tipped Harry’s head back slightly then, his eyes dark with rage and despair. “Don’t you dare pity me!”  
  
  
  
“I don’t pity you – I admire you!” Harry hissed, wincing at the painful grip on his hair that was only intensifying. “I – I don’t want to be a bloody savior, I never did, it was thrust on me! But I want to save you – I want to help you, I want to make you happy like Snape told me I could!” He cried out when Draco’s nails bit into his skull from where he held him. His hand flew to the blond’s wrist, but his grip was inescapable.  
  
  
  
“I had no right to look,” Harry admitted, “But you had no right to keep that kind of secret from me, especially after what your father did to _me_ as well! Don’t you think I needed to hear that you understood? Don’t you think that I…I deserved to know what kind of psychopath I was hiding in here from?”   
  
  
  
Draco flicked his head aside and stood up quickly. Harry was pregnant, and he didn’t want to hurt him, not ever again. But the anger he felt, coursing through his veins like boiling lava…it longed to lash out. The pain in his chest crying out for a release.  
  
  
  
“My father is not… He’s just…” After everything, even the cruellest of tortures, he couldn’t help but feel he had to protect him, a man who didn’t care about him beyond using him for his own means. “He’s not a…a _psychopath_.”   
  
  
  
Suddenly, the bile, the searing pain swirled up his throat and Draco fled to the bathroom. He leant over the toilet, shamed, shaking, his heart racing in his chest. He didn’t want this. How could anything go back to how it was now that Harry knew? “I think I’m going to be sick…” His shoulders jerked. His stomach lurched. Closing his eyes to try and steady himself, Draco whispered, “Please tell me you didn’t see everything? What exactly did you see?”  
  
  
  
“I…” Harry chewed his lip uncertaintly as he approached him, standing beside him but not daring to touch him. “I saw a lot of things while I was in there, I didn’t know how to escape until the memories were done. I – I saw everything you put in there, I think.” He flinched at Draco’s dry sob. “I…I didn’t mean to betray you, I just wanted to help you.”  
  
  
  
“I…I didn’t want you to know…” Draco started. “I never wanted you to know. I never wanted you to see me like that, not you… I…” He struggled to find the words he needed. “I don’t …” He felt Harry draw nearer. He felt so lost, he didn’t know what to say. Reaching over he grabbed the toilet roll and ripped off a few squares, drying his eyes. “Please leave me alone for a bit. I…I can’t talk to you like this.”  
  
  
  
“Draco,” Harry began tentatively, “I know you didn’t want me to see…to see what they did, but I – _Merlin_ , Draco tell me how to help you! You can’t be alright with this, you can’t be alright with what he did to you or you wouldn’t be haunted by them as you are.” He dropped down onto his knees again then, emerald gaze glistening in the dimness and searching his husband for something – _anything_. “Tell me what to do for you. I can’t leave you sitting here like this.”  
  
  
  
“I’m fine, just back off!” Draco snarled but Harry’s hand was already on his shoulder and he knew Harry’s lips were about to part with more senseless, useless babble. He shoved Harry aside then and he stumbled. “I SAID BACK OFF!” Draco snapped, seizing his husband’s wrist and pulling him to his feet.   
  
  
  
Fuming, he dragged Harry from the bathroom, swinging him round and pushing him until he tumbled backwards on the bed. He pounced on him, his legs landing either side of his waist, his fingers seizing Harry’s throat roughly, applying just enough pressure so that he could still breathe. He winced. A little scared of what he had just done.   
  
  
  
He pressed his forehead painfully into Harry’s, before lifting his head jerkily again, his eyes streaming. “ENOUGH!” He screamed. And then his voice slipped into helplessness, his words a trembling whisper as he choked out, “Enough…”  
  
  
  
Harry cried out at the pain spreading across his head and his throat, staring up at Draco through his wince. Draco’s unyielding strength pressed into his throat and he choked, gasped for air but Draco didn’t move. That head remained bowed over him, blond hair casting a curtain around their faces as tears slid from Draco’s face to his own. Harsh, erratic breathing filled Harry’s ears – Draco’s breathing for his own was being cut short.  
  
  
  
“D-Dra-co,” Harry spluttered, tipping his head back, those thumbs pressing spitefully into his adam’s apple, but he ignored it, the pain was nothing compared to Draco’s. Draco’s mouth was moving in quiet sobs and Harry felt it against his own. Another kind of pain swelling in his gut at Draco’s agony, Harry pressed his lips up to meet him, swallowing his cries. And the hands that had been at Draco’s wrists flew up to caress Draco’s skull gently, tenderly, even as his husband was strangling him.  
  
  
  
Draco felt his body weaken under that his touch. So heavy, so painful, so shameful. It felt like even his tears were stinging his cheeks as they rolled down his cheeks. He didn’t know what to do, or how much more he could take.   
  
  
  
And then, those lips…  
  
  
  
His lashes fluttered, tear droplets trickled down onto Harry’s cheeks. Draco gave a deep, shuddering breath, before he chanced speech again, his voice husky and uncertain…  
  
  
  
“Why is it…? Why is it that all the times I was abused, even by the Dark Lord I…I never cried and now, I…” He chocked on the next part. It came out a strangled, helpless sound. “Why can’t I stop in front of you?”  
  
  
  
“Because you love me,” Harry said, as simple and as easy as if it were the solution to all their problems. He closed his eyes, his hands tracing the hard, tense line of Draco’s arms to caress the fingers tensed around his throat, but he did not remove them. The pressure eased a little, permitting an end to the painful pressure but not freedom – he didn’t want freedom. He wanted to be trapped like this forever, Draco’s body shadowing him for the rest of his days…  
  
  
  
“Because…because I’m not going to let anyone touch you, never again. Because you’re _mine…_ ”  
  
  
  
What was this whirlwind Draco felt? Rushing through him, tearing at everything that made him who he was and gutting him out. His eyes were wide and stinging, he could barely bring himself to look at Harry. He tipped his head then, his silent sobs falling into the shoulder he had just ducked into.  
  
  
  
“How can you want me after this? How can you want me at all… I…I was _tainted_. I still am, I…” He felt Harry’s lips meet his own again, silencing him with a kiss. He felt himself melt into those lips, and slowly, his hand fell from Harry’s throat.  
  
  
  
Frantically, those same hands rushed down Harry’s hard torso, then up under his shirt, touching him, wanting him, like he had to have him right now. His hands moved over him, grabbing him and pulling him closer so that he could grind himself into him. His kiss became deeper, his tongue wound inside for more and he gasped hungrily into that mouth. All of his emotions seem to still when they touched, when he felt close.  
  
  
  
“Fuck me?” Draco asked huskily. “Make me clean, I – I want you inside me…?”  
  
  
  
Harry blinked up at him in confusion with hazy, glistening eyes, certain he hadn’t heard right. “Are you sure?” He asked, despite the shudders that laced his most sacred places at the blond’s words. Draco had only switched their roles once before…  
  
  
  
Draco didn’t say anything in answer, however, and Harry reached up to claim his mouth again, one hand diving into the golden tresses spilling out over those shoulders while the other ventured down to massage those hard pectorals. He felt Draco moan into his mouth and rubbed the pads of his fingers more vigorously into his head.   
  
  
  
“Nothing that they did will ever touch how you look to me,” Harry breathed into him, leaning up slowly and rolling Draco onto his side so that he was leaning over him. “I’ll make you mine, I’ll make you _glow_ from the inside-out,” he whispered huskily, dropping his mouth to graze the blond’s jaw with his lips like a cat scenting something.   
  
  
  
“Y-You’re stunning,” Harry all-but purred, his voice husky and swelling with emotion as he continued to pet Draco’s hair.  
  
  
  
Draco shivered at Harry’s words. Rolling himself over onto his back and parting his legs slightly. “Thank you. Please, don’t make me wait?” He murmured into the duvet below. He wanted to glow, he wanted this disgusting feeling to leave his body, he wanted Harry to wipe it all away. “And…d-do it raw?” Draco asked through gritted teeth.  
  
  
  
He wanted it to be Harry who fucked him, like he had been fucked so many times before. He wanted to feel his body stretch to accommodate him, he wanted the pleasure mixed with pain with someone he actually _wanted_ inside him. He wanted Harry to show him that he didn’t have to feel dirty or spoiled anymore, and that this could also be something beautiful – _he_ could be something beautiful.  
  
  
  
Reaching down, he unbuckled his belt, pulling it aside so that Harry knew he meant what he said.  
  
  
  
Harry blinked the watery emotion from his eyes and slid between Draco’s open legs, caressing the length of them as he shuffled closer. “Stop me if I hurt you too badly,” Harry warned him, drawing his trousers and boxers down in one smooth movement, tugging them off of Draco’s willing body with ease. He felt an odd warmth swelling in his chest, so dazzling it was near-blinding. He leant down to kiss Draco again, sliding his tongue into his mouth to taste every inch of him, leaving him in no doubt that Harry found him _anything but_ disgusting.   
  
  
  
In drawing a way, a thin line of saliva connected their mouths until it drew taut and broke. Harry stared down at him, massaging the hot insides of those milky thighs for a moment. Draco’s cock was half-limp and leaning to one side, Harry cringed to remember what had been done to it and he shuffled down on the bed to allow his breath to dust the flushing organ. It hardened a little more.  
  
  
  
Draco tossed his head in reaction, resting his cheek on the duvet, his eyes glazed over and Harry felt the need to hear him speak, watch him move again. Draco wasn’t a limp doll for him to use, he was worth more than anything he could find words for. “Open your shirt for me?” Harry panted, involving him in their lovemaking.   
  
  
  
Draco did as he was told, reaching down and unbuttoning his shirt, throwing it aside quickly. He wanted this, more than he had ever wanted anything in his entire life and he wanted it now. Even though he felt as though he was laying his pride out naked for Harry to see, he didn’t care, there was nothing left to hide anymore. This was all there was for him, all he wanted and all (if Harry wanted it to) he needed.  
  
  
  
“I want it to hurt. I want you to fuck me, as hard as you can. I need it! It needs to be you! It needs to hurt, to mean something! Please – fuck me!” Draco groaned, his lower body fidgeting anxiously. Impatient, he positioned himself on his knees and opened his legs wider, his hole twitching apprehensively, _hungrily._  
  
  
  
Harry nodded slowly in understanding, spreading the globes of Draco’s arse wide apart until the twitching entrance was spread taut. Draco hissed in a mix of pleasure and pain below him and Harry leant in, lapping at Draco’s tight, pink hole. That last memory, Draco had been seventeen, Voldemort had been alive, he knew that was the last time Draco had ever suffered that, he didn’t know why, but he knew, could feel it in the frantically clenching muscles underneath his tongue. And that was a conversation from when Draco was ready, but he knew it would never happen again.  
  
  
  
“You’re mine,” he breathed against that tense little place, sliding his tongue into the pucker and loosening him a little. _He’s so tight,_ he thought with no little amount of excitement and trepidation. He felt Draco’s sacred place yield to him at last, and he sucked one finger into his mouth briefly, before sliding it into Draco’s arse that pressed back impatiently into his hand. “You’re all mine,” he repeated, drawing his finger out too soon to have given him any proper preparation – just like Draco wanted.  
  
  
  
Shifting up onto his knees behind Draco, he spat onto his palm before rubbing the saliva onto his own, swollen cock, rubbing the glistening tip, leaking pearly pre-emission over Draco’s entrance. The blond jerked with a groan and Harry gasped for breath.   
  
  
  
Draco felt the wet tip brush passed against his entrance and shuddered. He needed this, now. More than ever. He ducked his head into the sheets and spread his legs that much wider. It had felt so nice when they’d done it before, so… _liberating_. He knew he was twitching, and part of him felt scared, but he had never been so sure of anything in his life, as he was right now.   
  
  
  
“Fuck me! Bloody hell, _please_! Put it in, put it in!” Draco’s entrance clenched together, catching the nib of Harry’s cock as it pleaded for him. He backed himself towards Harry, heart racing. “Make me glow, Harry…” He stammered incoherently through croaky tears, handing no control over his words now.  
  
  
  
“I’ll make you glow,” Harry promised huskily, his hand smoothing over Draco’s lower back soothingly as he used the other to guide his cock into that opening. “I’ll save you.” He grit his teeth as that fire licked up his erection in pressing against the resisting hole. Draco groaned underneath him and spread himself as wide as he could go, reaching behind himself to open his cheeks to Harry’s invasion.  
  
  
  
“Relax,” Harry purred, massaging the apex of the blond’s buttocks gently as he pushed in, he nearly choked on his own saliva as he felt that hot, tight hole open and swallow the purpled head of his erection.  
  
  
  
“Oh – Oh, _Bloody hell_ , you feel so wonderful!” Harry gasped and he felt Draco move back on him, hungry to take all of him, and now. “Steady,” Harry murmured but the blond didn’t want ‘steady’. He wanted hard, fast, _now._   
  
  
  
“Ahhgh!” Draco groaned, his teeth grinding together as he took the sheets between them to stop himself form crying out. That nice stretching, burning sensation, it hurt but it…it felt different. Fulfilling. Liberating. He backed himself onto Harry impatiently, his eyes still brimming with overwhelmed tears as he tried to swallow all of Harry whole.   
  
  
  
“FUCK!” He shouted. But he wasn’t resisting when Harry’s cock hit him deep. Yes, that was so perfect! “Fuck me!” He growled, drawing his feet to the back of Harry’s leg, forcing him in. “Move in me, please, Harry, please…!”   
  
  
  
“Ssssh,” Harry panted, his hands warm and smoothing along Draco’s side, one stilling on his him to pull him back tight into his slow thrusts into that pale body, the other reaching beneath to massage Draco’s neglected half-hardness. He stroked him liberally, squeezing until Draco let out a half gasp, half sob.  
  
  
  
“You don’t need to beg me for anything,” Harry assured him, leaning over him as much as his swollen belly would permit and laying a kiss between his shoulder blades. Just as another plea for movement began on Draco’s lips, Harry’s hips drew back and slammed forward again, striking Draco deep and hard, the friction between them burning beautifully, creating fire like a match on a matchbox.  
  
  
  
“Ahhh…!” Draco groaned, throwing his head back at the feel of that cock, penetrating him rough and deep. “Again!” Draco demanded, still overwhelmed by Harry’s words. The walls inside his arse were burning so deliciously, undulating around Harry’s cock, devouring him. He felt another sudden thrust hit him then and his teeth left the sheets this time. “Oh, Merlin!” He spluttered, his lips parted by a single dribble of saliva.  
  
  
  
“Harry I’m, fuck…I…!” Draco leant back, taking those thrusts. How could this, this feel so good? Why did it feel like he was evaporating, burning up in Harry’s sunlight? “Soak me with your cum! Merlin, I…I need it…ahhh….” Harry’s hand stroked along his cock, pumping the organ with each movement inside, never neglectful, his forefinger dancing over the slit and circling it maddeningly.   
  
  
  
“Y-You…you’re so amazing,” Harry panted, mouthing the smooth skin of his back dotingly, even as he fucked his body with ravenous force. “I – I can’t…can’t last – it’s only my…my second time ever…” But he lost his words to a low groan that fought it’s way from his throat as he strummed the tender line of flesh leading down from the head of Draco’s weeping prick and Draco’s arse tensed around him. He flushed darkly at his own words, the hard slapping sounds of his hips meeting Draco’s bum only making him harder.  
  
  
  
“You feel amazing!”  
  
  
  
“I… This feels good!” Draco admitted, glad Harry couldn’t see the flush on his face, for all it was worth, he had to be left with some dignity. His head lolled on his shoulders loosely. This felt amazing, Harry was right about that. “You feel amazing too…” He gasped. Harry’s thick cock seemed to be swelling inside him. Sweeping in, it felt like their joined bodies were on fire! Harry’s movements grew faster each time, opening him and stretching him, making his hole gape around him. Harry’s smooth thighs were hot and firm, slamming against his bum with every movement. He had never felt so full. So incredible, with something that used to once bring him horror and humiliation. This didn’t feel like that. It felt like…  
  
  
  
“Merlin, Harry I…I love you…please… L-Love me too…!” Draco pleaded senselessly, rolling onto his back so that he could look into his lover’s eyes as he was taken, as he gave. And Harry, evidently lost to sensation was back on him in sections, forcing his way back inside, making Draco cry out in bliss. “Watch me…!” Draco gasped. “Watch…!”  
  
  
  
Harry smiled breathlessly down at him, wrapping his arms around Draco’s shoulders and holding him as he pounded his eager backside as hard as his legs would move him. “H-How could I watch anything else?” Harry gasped, slamming their lips together roughly. “I’ve never been able to take my eyes off you, not ever,” he murmured against that mouth, licking him, tasting him as if he would die tomorrow and wanted to take the memory with him.  
  
  
  
Glancing down to the swelling hardness in his grasp, he fisted it harder, making the sweet place around him convulse. “You want to cum? I want to watch you – I want to see the face no one else gets to, I want to hear you. Show me. Show me how beautiful you are!”  
  
  
  
Draco winced, a mere hairsbreadth between those lips still, so that those words, husky and desirable swept into his mouth. His lips, parted in eye-watering pleasure where Harry made him shudder in the sheets, making his feet twitch at the mere tone of his voice. “Make me cum! Watch me, I want to cum for you!” Draco demanded breathlessly.  
  
  
  
Their bodies were so close, their lips ghosting feather-soft over one another, Draco had never felt any of these things, such stark contrasts, gentleness and passion. These things, they were not amazing, not stunning, and definitely not beautiful, but when Harry said them, did them, they were dazzling. And he could actually believe them.  
  
  
  
Draco let out a huge gasp, moaning loudly for him to hear, for the whole world to hear at every his touch, every slight movement. Harry’s fingerss had never felt so good on him before. This touch, it was like fire and ice in the same instance. He couldn’t help but want that cock to sink deeper inside him and burn him up until there was nothing left. He had never felt as close to someone as this, as _safe_ with them, as protected.  
  
  
  
He wrapped his legs up around Harry’s back, drawing him in. The wet squelching noises of their thrusts making him flush darkly, but that didn’t stop him, or Harry. Sweat dripped over them both and Draco arched up into Harry’s hand suddenly as it tugged the foreskin back over his throbbing, purple head.  
  
  
  
“Oh, fuck!” Harry panted, closing his eyes and resting his forehead on Draco’s. “I’m – you’re too good, I’m going to – going to cum! Cum with me, please!” He was jerking that thick, slick length so hard now his wrist was aching but he didn’t care. His cock felt so good, like a thousand tiny jolts of pleasure were buzzing at every pore. “I’m fucking you – never, never thought… Oh, bloody hell, cum with me!”  
  
  
  
And he felt Draco come undone beneath him, and only then, as he felt pleasure shaking the blond’s body, did he spill himself into his waiting body.  
  
  
  
Draco felt a hot rush of liquid burst deep inside, splashing his throbbing walls and shoving him roughly into a pure-white oblivion. His head went limp on his neck, his thoughts spiralled at the liquid heat, at the feeling of their climax cleansing him. Harry had just found completion inside him. Had just made him new. He was lost for words.  
  
  
  
Why couldn’t he breathe? Then, he looked down, seeing his own pulsing erection jerking on his belly, ready to burst. “I’m gunna cum, oh fuck, don’t stop, don’t stop! I’m…I’m…Cumming!” His cocked buzzed, like the pleasure coursing through his being was a tide of electricity. “FUCK!” Draco’s body jerked up then, the thick, white spurts of spurting between them, painting their torsos sinfully.  
  
  
  
Harry gave a gasping smile before smoothing their lips together, gentler this time. Tightening his embrace around Draco’s shoulders, he rolled them onto their sides. He closed his eyes, brushing his cheek into that soft hair as he caressed the locks that hung by those shoulders carefully. He felt Draco’s chest heaving against him, felt his hands roaming his sweat-dampened skin gently as he hung in post-orgasmic bliss.   
  
  
  
“That was…very…” But his words failed him, there was nothing, no comparison that could come close. So his hand slid up Draco’s throat, tilting his chin to press a kiss to his mouth again, a barely there, feather-light touch. He could feel himself softening inside Draco’s body, feel him twitching in aftermath and he smiled again, stroking his cheek.  
  
  
  
“You’re glowing,” he said, seeing those thick lashes flutter and those grey eyes come into view again.  
  
  
  
Draco flushed at that statement, his eyes welling up again, he felt choked. “And…you’re sure that I’m…that I’m okay? Like this? That you want me like this? That you…you want me at all now…?” He felt Harry’s hand come up to rest on his neck, stroking the little hairs, barley visible at the back of it. He couldn’t help but swoon under his fingers.  His tight ring below shuddered, the feeling of Harry’s cock slipping out his only warning before his seed trickled from his sore hole. But he didn’t care, he felt amazing.   
  
  
  
His eyes watered as he lent into Harry’s chest. He knew this didn’t solve everything, that his memories would still be there and that he would still be haunted, but somehow, he felt stronger.  
  
  
  
“I want you,” Harry breathed in his ear, and it was all he had ever wanted to hear from him since the day he’d understood what those words meant. Harry squeezed him tighter then. “Nothing dulls you in my eyes, nothing – especially not…not something beyond your control. You suffered something horrid, but it’s over now, it’ll never happen again. And we’ll face it together, alright?” He caressed the back of Draco’s head, comforting him quietly, his voice a low hum in his throat.   
  
  
  
Draco choked, laughing. He felt almost hysterical all of a sudden. He couldn’t believe that he finally had Harry Potter, after wanting him for so long. And that the very same Harry Potter wanted him too!   
  
  
  
He leant into Harry’s arms, for once, allowing him to comfort him without feeling shamed or weak. “Sorry I didn’t tell you, I just… I was… _I am_ ashamed. I…I’m not strong, I’m not the person you think and even though I wanted to protect myself I… I was a coward. I was too much of a coward to stick up for myself through the humiliation, too scared to die. Even though I lay there some nights wishing for death… I was, still am in that place to a degree and I can’t promise that I can protect you either, when you need me most…”  
  
  
  
Harry drew back enough so that Draco could see how easily that smile reached his lips and he rested his head in the pillow slowly. A small jump in his abdomen had him placing Draco’s hand over where their (evidently wide awake) daughter was kicking him. “She’s awake,” he said, reminding Draco subtly of the other, _good_ things in his life, things he didn’t have when he was suffering back then…  
  
  
  
He was content to watch Draco’s face for a moment – no, he would have been contented to watch it forever he was sure, as the softness returned to that face. Then, Harry spoke. “You don’t always have to protect me. We’ll protect each other. Sometimes…sometimes I’ll need you to be strong and sometimes I’ll have to be. That’s…that’s what it means to be… _together_ , isn’t it?”  
  
  
  
“Yeah…” Draco said, with no room for arguing. He still felt as though he was dreaming, none of this seemed real. But he was glad it was. He had something in life now, something worth fighting for and he would be stronger, he would fight for it. He wanted to keep this, it had taken him long enough to get Harry and he wasn’t about to let Harry walk away now, or his baby.   
  
  
  
“I promise to try too, as well. I need to, for our child’s sake and my own. If not yours…”  
  
  
  
“Draco?” Harry asked carefully, the tone of his voice wary. “That last image…of Voldemort,” he said tactfully, “That was right before the battle of Hogwarts, am I right? That was the last time wasn’t it?” He saw Draco nod and squeezed him tighter. “Why did your father not…again afterwards?” He felt Draco tilt his head to look up at him, and he met that confused gaze. But he needed to know why, why it had stopped so suddenly. “He has done wicked things to us, but he hasn’t touched you again since. Why?”  
  
  
  
Draco’s eyes flickered with something then. Anxiety, Harry thought. “I know he hasn’t changed,” Draco began, “I know he is still capable of those things, I…I’m not really sure why, myself. But I…I think he realised that even after letting the Dark Lord do his worst to me, I was as cracked as I would ever be without being broken.” Draco sighed deeply as his eyes returned to Harry’s face.   
  
  
  
“He always liked to think I was submitting to him. Maybe he got bored of me, he fucked with me so much I just…stopped reacting to him any longer. He came onto you because he knew it would probably get some kind of reaction from me, something he hasn’t had since that…that _incident_ with the Dark Lord. Because he _knew_ what you meant to me – more than my own miserable skin.” He paused then, looking thoughtful, his tongue darting out to moistened his lips. “I can stand up to him when you’re with me, I do feel powerful and he doesn’t like that… He made me so weak before. He doesn’t like to see the way you… _empower me,_ I suppose.”  
  
  
  
Harry nodded. That made perfect sense, Lucius was a master at manipulation, at pain and torment, but there was no amusement in it for him if his toy was a complacent little doll. He had thought Draco fully broken no doubt. Until he had come along…  
  
  
  
“We’re stronger than him,” he promised Draco, “He can’t touch us, and if he tries he’ll regret it. I killed Voldemort, I’m not scared of him.” When Draco looked sceptical, Harry slid down a little on the bed, pressing his face into Draco’s chest and hearing his heart beat strong against his ear. “You are strong. I can hear it,” he murmured. “And that look in your eyes when you stood between me and him – I’ve never seen anyone do that for me before… Not since…not since my mother stood between me and Voldemort.”   
  
  
  
He felt Draco’s hands slide through his own hair then and warmth spread through his limbs at the mutual comfort. “Draco?” he said, hearing a soft _“hmm?”_ in response. “You make me glow too,” he said.  
  
  
  
  
  
 _~To Be Continued..._


	19. Suppressing Fate

[Nineteen]  
  
 **Suppressing Fate**  
  
  
  
  
  
“So you will come then?” Narcissa pleaded, watching her only son give a fleeting smile from across the main lounge of the manor, where she, Harry, Draco and Severus were gathered. “It will only be with myself and Severus,” She added, “Harry too of course; we’d like to take you out…” This had been the second time this week she had asked. She had it in her head that she wanted to treat the ‘family’ to an early Christmas meal. But Draco could not help but think that now Lucius was not here to demand a public gathering, she was excited to give them a private, more intimate Christmas Eve. At least that’s what he assumed. Severus had been coming over more often lately too, Draco had noticed…  
  
  
  
Draco moved towards the fireplace then and sat on the settee beside Harry. “It’s not…I still feel a little anxious taking Harry out of the house and–”  
  
  
  
“Come now, Draco, please? You know I only want what is best for you and Harry and the baby.”  
  
  
  
“I know...” Draco said at last and she seemed to smile at his ready agreement. He had forgiven her and Severus, of course, but it was still a little… _difficult_ to continue as if things hadn’t changed. Perhaps that was another reason why his mother was making so much effort?  
  
  
  
“I know you only wanted…wanted him to save me,” Draco said then, his voice calm and quiet. He loathed to upset his mother by digging the subject back up, but she needed to know. He still felt awkward, playing ‘happy families’ with Severus and his mother. “I still… I’m not sure about a family dinner, that’s all. And Harry practically vomits most of his food up anyway; it would be a waste…”  
  
  
  
Snape snapped the book he had been reading shut and moved over to the table to refill his glass of whisky. “Indulge your mother, Draco. She wants to spoil her son-in-law and her granddaughter as well as yourself,” the Potion’s Master said, sipping at the crystal goblet. School was over for the Christmas holidays now and he had been attending the Malfoy manor frequently in the spare time he found himself in possession of.   
  
  
  
“Your young man has always had a desire to spend the holiday surrounded by his makeshift, red-haired family. If you will not indulge his childish image of a _family Christmas_ then I suppose you must make arrangements so that he may spend the holiday with the Weasleys.” Just as he’d suspected, Draco’s eyes narrowed with a mixture of distaste and jealousy then. Severus hid a small smirk in his whisky. Draco’s possessiveness was so predictable…  
  
  
  
Draco turned to his mother, smiling. “Fine then, if it makes you and Harry happy,” He said, and she nodded at him gracefully, her smile lighting up her pale face. “And you will accompany us, will you Harry?” She asked and Harry nodded brightly. Never did he think he would be having a Christmas Eve meal with Snape and the Malfoys, of all the people.  
  
  
  
“I would like to see the Weasleys tomorrow though,” Harry said to Draco, meaning Christmas Eve. “I have gifts to give them and I’m sure Hermione and Mrs Weasley will have gifts for the baby at least.” He watched Draco wrinkle his nose with annoyance. Ron in particular had not been invited back to the manor since Draco had found out what had been said the last time Harry had met with him and Hermione…  
  
  
  
“And Hermione has been keeping your present safe for me, so I need to get it off of her,” he admitted sheepishly, glancing down at the book in his hand, one Hermione had given him called, _“What To Expect When You’re A MAN and Expecting.”_ Why did he feel so silly saying that? “You can come with me – Mr and Mrs Weasley say you’re always welcome,” he tried.   
  
  
  
“Right, I come along so you can bugger off with that red-haired twat?” Draco spat, causing Harry to look twice at him. “I’ll pass thanks…” He said carefully. Narcissa stepped in then.  
  
  
  
“Well, I have arranged our meal for tonight so it will be no trouble, Harry.”  
  
  
  
He smiled at her, happy he’d still be able to spend time with the Weasleys. Leaning back into the couch, he set his book down (open on the page he’d got up to) on his bump and stretched his legs out with a wince. He noticed the little hiss of pain caught Draco’s attention from across the room where he was shifting through work papers at the table, but the blond didn’t move.   
  
  
  
“Are you alright, Harry?” Narcissa asked, settling quite easily at his side, as if he had always been part of their family and not once their enemy. He peered up at her sheepishly, still not really sure what to make of her. But she loved Draco and she was important to him. _And she’s your daughter’s grandmother,_ he added mentally, still finding that weird to _think._ Despite it all though, he was glad that Draco had let her back into his life, she seemed to have missed him during her exile from his presence…  
  
  
  
“Y-Yeah,” he replied uncertainly, moving his toes around, having neglected to put shoes on yet. “Feet are swelling a bit – my legs ache. I’m told it’s normal though,” he said, gesturing to the book.  
  
  
  
“Who bought you this?” She asked curiously, picking it up to examine the cover. “I wasn’t even aware they made this kind of thing. It seems rather improper…not to offend you dear.”  
  
  
  
Harry raised a brow at her. He supposed it was odd. But then, this whole thing was odd, getting pregnant when you had a penis…  
  
  
  
Draco looked between his mother and Harry, not saying anything, just observing. He was glad they weren’t looking at him however; they might have caught the smile that touched his lips just then.  
  
  
  
“I…well Hermione – she’s a bookworm, always has been and I suppose she thought that I could do my own research for once,” Harry explained with a small laugh, happy but a little awkward at Narcissa taking an interest in him. She hadn’t really said much about him or the baby. But she must accept him; she helped initiate this relationship between him and Draco after all.   
  
  
  
“I… It makes it easier if I know what I’m heading towards – I don’t really know much about babies and pregnancy, at least I didn’t beforehand.” He glanced down at his own hands nervously, not sure where to look while he waited for her to answer. He ran the fingers of his right hand unconsciously over the band of platinum on his wedding finger, not seeing Draco watching him from across the room.  
  
  
  
“Seems like having babies is a scary business,” he murmured, more to himself than anyone else, but across the room, the cause of this situation, Severus Snape had gone very still while Narcissa surprised Harry by patting his arm gently.  
  
  
  
“Severus, are you alright?” Narcissa asked the potions master then, moving in towards him. His hand seemed to be quivering, he realised and so he placed his glass down. Harry was taking this pregnancy business far too lightly, that was for certain.  
  
  
  
Draco glanced over to see the professor unmoved, also rather concerned. Severus cleared his throat unnecessarily, assuring them he was fine. But Harry and Draco didn't think he was being one-hundred percent truthful about that. And they were right.  
  
  
  
Severus could not regret his meddling, whatever the outcome. After what Albus had put him, Harry and many others through with his good intentions, Snape had vowed never to interfere in another's life. It had been Draco’s misery that had caused him to break that vow. He cared too much for him to worry for his standards and morals. The moment he had seen Draco trussed up like a sacrifice for the Dark Lord he had contemplated how to save the boy he had come to care for, more than the child's own father had.  
  
  
  
After the admission, after Draco’s pleas for Harry to remain ignorant of his torment, it was not hard to decipher what could form the foundations for Draco’s happiness, his salvation. So he could not bring himself to regret, but he could feel guilt as he looked upon Harry, who had suffered so greatly already…  
  
  
  
“Your relationship seems to have improved greatly,” Snape noted, talking to Harry and Draco both. His mind, his guilt needed to be eased, even if he may not deserve it. “I pray this means you are both finding the situation more…amicable?”  
  
  
  
Harry cleared his throat awkwardly, diverting his gaze in embarrassment. “It's… I'm not unhappy,” he admitted quietly, “I think me and Draco will make pretty decent parents.”  
  
  
  
“And spouses?” Snape enquired, making Harry flush a little. The animosity seemed to have faded but Harry and Draco still hadn't shown any displays of affection in front of them yet. But whether that was just Draco’s pride, Severus and Narcissa were not sure. All the same, he looked to Draco for his answer to that question, since Potter – _Harry_ seemed to have been swallowed by embarrassment.  
  
  
  
“As spouses, we are just the same. We are good together, I suppose,” Draco stated, betraying little emotion, though Snape could see him flushing a little behind his reading glasses.   
  
  
  
“You _suppose_?” Snape repeated.  
  
  
  
“Yes, and would you… Please, Severus, don't question me.” Draco was now obviously flushing, and he caught Harry giggling silently at him. He stood up suddenly removing himself from the room. “I'm going upstairs.”  
  
  
  
Harry blinked as he left suddenly, while Snape and Narcissa smiled in amusement.   
  
  
  
“Yes, you seem to be getting along quite nicely,” Snape said, causing Harry to look at him suddenly.  
  
  
  
“I – Draco doesn't like to talk about… We're alright,” Harry stammered.  
  
  
  
“Don't flush so, Harry dear,” Narcissa cooed, retrieving her wand from her robe and flicking it at the floor, conjuring a plush foot stool that slid itself underneath Harry’s elevated feet. “Rest with your feet up, it helps,” she assured him, patting his shoulder before getting to her feet. “I've been talking to Draco about where you'll want the nursery–”   
  
  
  
“As close to me as possible,” Harry said quickly. Narcissa gave him a knowing smile.  
  
  
  
“Of course. That's the beauty of magic, extra space can be created anywhere,” she said. But Harry felt uneasy. He'd been avoiding thinking about what was going to happen in four months time – that was the scary part. And more than that, at least while he was pregnant he knew where the baby was, knew it was alright, that no one could take her away or hurt her.  
  
  
  
He always suffered this wretched, plummeting sensation in his gut when he thought about the future…  
  
  
  
“I'm just going to go have a word with Draco,” Severus said, bowing his head and taking a few glasses up with him and a bottle of firewhisky, leaving Harry and Narcissa to their own devices.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
_KNOCK. KNOCK._  
  
  
  
Draco got to his feet at the sound of the door, carefully opening it and allowing Snape to come inside. He had been expecting this. “Close the door behind you,” He warned, but before he had even taken his seat again, Severus had spoken.  
  
  
  
“Draco, did you…the pensieve…?”  
  
  
  
Draco’s eyes flared with panic. He and Harry hadn’t really touched on that since… Harry seemed to know he wasn’t ready yet. “Yeah, about that…Harry knows.”  
  
  
  
Snape raised a dark brow and stepped further into the room, closing the door behind him as Draco had asked. “You showed it to him?” He asked, not even attempting to hide his surprise. “I must confess it is a relief that things are going so well that you would confide in him – but I never would have expected you to divulge…” A look in Draco’s eyes silenced him and he gave a small nod of understanding, his tone low and grave when he next chanced speech.  
  
  
  
“You did not show him,” Snape said, voicing his realisation, “He looked in on his own volition.” He gave a low, frustrated sigh. “And here I was thinking that Potter had grown out of poking his nose in where it doesn’t belong…”  
  
  
  
“Malfoy,” Draco corrected quickly, his tone a tad defensive. “He’s a Malfoy now, not a Potter.”  
  
  
  
“Of course,” Snape replied smoothly, although it wasn’t like he needed to be reminded of that fact. “And so?” He prompted, “I imagine the problem is not that easily solved. Now he knows just _who_ your father is, what he is truly capable of, what do you both propose to do?” Draco was quiet and Snape stepped closer. “You haven’t spoken about it since he found out, have you?”  
  
  
  
“No…we just… _fucked_ ,” Draco admitted, causing that dark gaze to flicker with disappointment. Draco couldn’t bear it. “I…I didn't really… I didn't want him to know. Even though him knowing hasn't changed anything I…” Snape walked closer to him then, resting his hand on his shoulder. “I'm so angry, yet I feel…a little stronger, I…”  
  
  
  
“I know, Draco, _I know,_ ” Snape sighed, looking into the mirror that reflected both himself and Draco. “But, sometimes it's better that for someone to know everything about–”   
  
  
  
“He was my – he was, _is my_ … Bloody hell, I hate this, this feeling. I feel sick at myself…ashamed…”  
  
  
  
“Draco,” Snape said softly, cutting across his distressed rambling and pressing a glass of whisky into his hand to steady him. He watched the boy down it in one go. Snape continued. “The fact that he knows, it hasn’t changed him, has it? He still thinks of you in the same way as he did before, doesn't he?”  
  
  
  
“Yeah,” Draco replied uncertainly, his skin tingling when he remembered Harry cleansing him, making love to him so hard that he could’ve been left in no doubt what he felt. “But I…”  
  
  
  
“No, precisely, he hasn't changed,” Snape replied abruptly, “The only person who thinks you're any of those things, is you, Draco.” Snape moved forwards, setting his hands on Draco’s shoulders. “Horrible things were done to you, but that does not make you weak. It does not make you _anything_. Put the blame and the loathing where it belongs,” he said and when he saw misery slide across Draco’s eyes, the potions master’s hands came up to Draco’s face, holding his head firmly, making him look at him.  
  
  
  
“Lucius has disappeared again – you know as well as I that he will return when we least expect him. It seems as if he has chosen a pattern of targeting Harry to hurt you. We need to prepare, we need to decide what we are going to do, Draco. He cannot loom over your head like a storm-cloud threatening to explode. I will not allow it.” Just then, Snape’s voice was hard, foreboding – as if he were fully capable of something stupid if it would end Draco’s suffering…  
  
  
  
 Draco’s teeth grinded together, any thoughts of that man harming his daughter or his husband sent a sharp stab at his stomach. But Snape was right, he had to consider it, he couldn't just hope that his father would just stay away, as he knew the probability of that was extremely low.  
  
  
  
“I don't know, I…I often wonder when this will end, and what will come of it. He’s my father, i-it's not like I can just cut him down, but…” Draco’s eyelids clenched then as they stung. What could he do? Regardless of the things Lucius had done and the hate he felt for him, he still felt this underlying unconditional love for him, this respect that Lucius Malfoy demanded. Draco had grown up half-hating half-admiring him. He felt so torn.   
  
  
  
Snape’s hands squeezed him tighter then and his grey eyes flew to the professor’s onyx gaze. “You cannot allow your feelings to cloud your judgement, cannot allow them to overrun you when it matters most. Lucius Malfoy is a cruel man, Draco, he will manipulate you as long as you breathe and he’ll take Harry and your daughter down with you if you allow him to run free much longer.”  
  
  
  
Draco shook his head. Snape shook his shoulders roughly. “You were once a boy who was forced to make all the wrong choices out of fear and love. Now I want you to be a man that is strong enough to overcome what has happened, strong enough to make your own choices…”  
  
  
  
“What are you suggesting then? That I…that I _kill_ him?” Draco asked, horrified. “I can't exactly elope now can I?” He said with the utmost sarcasm in his voice. He sighed once more, walking over to the settee and dropping down into it. “I don't want to think about this right now–”   
  
  
  
“Draco! Stop urging it to the back of your mind, stop being a scared little boy, stand up and fight for what you claim to love to bloody much!” Snape snarled, demanding more when he knew Draco had so much more to give.  
  
  
  
“Get out!” Draco screamed, but Snape didn't move. “I said, _get out_!”  
  
  
  
“You won’t let anyone help you but you won’t do it yourself either! You _have_ a child, or you will do soon – you cannot afford to behave like one yourself and hide underneath the bed-clothes and wish for it all to go away. You will get hurt – Harry and your daughter will get hurt if you don’t ask for help!” Draco sneered at him and Snape glowered down at him. “Ask me for help – I will do it, I will _end this_ if you cannot. There is…” His voice lowered to a deep, husky drawl, lined with emotion that threatened to burst from the potion’s master’s chest. “There is blood on my hands already, for lesser reasons,” he murmured, “I would take more for you to be safe, Draco…”  
  
  
  
“And what about my mother? It isn't just about me, is it? Even if I wanted him, dead, I…I hate him, but…”  
  
  
  
“If he harms your child and Harry, what then?”  
  
  
  
“I _know!_ It's just… I can't–”  
  
  
  
“Then let me. I want to do this for you, Draco.”  
  
  
  
“NO!”  
  
  
  
Snape shot at him then, his forefinger and thumb grasping his lips and pressing them together tightly. Leaning in close, _so close_ , he gave Draco a dark ominous stare, a warning stare and Draco shuddered under the intensity of it. He tried to speak but his lips were forcibly sealed still.  
  
  
  
“Draco, this is your chance, to finally be happy. I have watched you grow, watched you from a distance, you deserve this happiness. You do not have to feel guilty, not one bit, after what he has done to you!”  
  
  
  
Stepping back out of Snape’s grasp, Draco licked his dry lips. “If I decide I want him killed, I'll handle it _myself_ ,” Draco assured him.  
  
  
  
“What’s the matter?” Came a third voice. Both men turned to see Harry framed in the doorway, staring between the two of them in confusion. He’d thought Snape and Draco had… _made up_ after their last argument, unless this was about something different?   
  
  
  
“Draco?” He prompted, walking further into the room to come to Draco’s side, “What’s wrong?”  
  
  
  
Draco glared darkly at the professor, stepping further back straightening up his shirt. “Nothing!” He snarled, shoving passed Harry and wrenching open the door Harry had just come through. “I'd like you to leave!” Draco demanded, watching as Severus paced over to him to honour his wishes.  
  
  
  
“If you do not do _something,_ you will regret it,” Snape warned him, looking back over to Harry, then Draco again. Harry frowned. Why did it always feel like there were secrets being told in this family? Snape shifted uncomfortably, before sweeping through the door, which Draco slammed brusquely behind him.  
  
  
  
“Draco?” Harry started, “What was–?” Draco rushed over then, the anger bright and burning in his vein. He darted at Harry, forcing him back into the door leading to the bathroom with a thud and planted a wet kiss onto his, Harry’s lips. “Just shut up and let me fuck you,” Draco groaned.  
  
  
  
Harry’s eyes widened at the announcement. Narcissa and Snape were still down there. What on earth was going on? If this was Draco’s way of dealing with it, because he didn't want to talk, then Harry knew he should say no.  
  
  
  
“D-Draco–?” Harry choked out just before those lips took him again, roughly, hungrily. He groaned into that mouth shamelessly, his body jerking forwards to meet the warm, furious heat of Draco before he twisted his head to the side, gasping for air and coherency while Draco savaged his neck. “D-Draco – wait, _stop,_ ” he gasped out, even as his eyes rolled back into his head. “Y-You…you need to – to talk about–” His jaw clenched as he tried to hold onto his thoughts.   
  
  
  
“Hmmm, n-no!” Harry groaned, even as his cock hardened painfully in his loose trousers. “N-No, I – I can’t think when you do that and we…we need to…!” His words slipped as Draco mouthed his sensitive throat then and his body went rigid in pleasure, mouth open silently.  
  
  
  
Draco pressed his tongue back inside those parted lips, taking him. His hand rushed up under his shirt to meet his nipple and with a gentle twist of the responsive bud, Harry was falling even further into his submission. When he tore his lips wetly from Harry’s, he growled out, “I don't want to talk, I want fuck…”  
  
  
  
His tongue danced almost spitefully over the now raw skin of Harry’s throat and he breathed hotly in the shell of that flustered ear when Harry’s hand rose to his chest to hold him back slightly. Draco swatted his hand away, twisting the handle of the bathroom door so that they both flew inside. Shoving Harry roughly backwards by his shoulders, Draco’s eyes grew dark with passion and his hands rushed to the zip on his trousers.  
  
  
  
“I said, I want to fuck,” he growled huskily.  
  
  
  
Harry hissed as his body hit the impenetrable glass wall of the shower, Draco’s weight pressing him into it relentlessly as that tongue tormented his flushed ear. All his sensitive spots, all his dirty, debauched bodily secrets manipulated for Draco’s pleasure. He knew them all, better than Harry because he, Draco was the one that discovered them for him. And they were turning Harry’s brain to mush. He cleared his throat in an attempt to unclog his mind but it wasn’t working.  
  
  
  
“Draco – it’s not…don’t…you’re hurting me,” he insisted huskily, his hands pushing at the blond’s shoulders uselessly. A low groan left his lips when that hand groped his erection roughly through his open trousers and boxers, the friction of the fabric sinfully sweet against him. “You can’t fuck me senseless just to distract yourself,” Harry panted, “Not forever. W-We need to–”  
  
  
  
Draco’s free hand flew up to his mouth then, stifling his words by shoving his fingers past his lips, pinching his tongue teasingly and opening his mouth thusly for the invasion of his own tongue, which danced sinfully over the tip of Harry’s.   
  
  
  
“Hmnnuuhh!” Harry garbled out, those fingers prohibiting speech and controlling him in the way that made his head spin.  
  
  
  
“Shut up, just… _shut up_ ,” Draco hissed with no real malice, just passion and need and anger blazing in his voice. His lips drew close to Harry’s again. “Tension, release it… _Harry_ , I…I want to fuck you, let me.” He tipped Harry’s head back then, his tongue darting out viciously to his quivering adam’s apple, mouthing it with fleeting, deep kisses.   
  
  
  
Quickly, Draco’s mouth drew down to his chest, where Harry’s shirt blocked him. The first button was already undone for him, but the following ones were still neatly done up – for now. “ _Diffindo_!” Draco snapped, watching Harry’s shirt fall off him in tatters. He was certain, at the back of his mind that he heard Harry protest about his shirt, but he countered with a sharp tug on the hairs at the back of his neck, his mouth delving down to the newly revealed skin.  
  
  
  
“No,” Harry insisted, his voice stronger but still shaking with the pleasure he wanted to badly to surrender to. His hands flew up to Draco’s hair then, gripping the golden locks tightly to keep Draco’s mouth from him long enough to form a whole sentence. “If – If I let you…if we… You have to promise we’ll talk about this soon,” he murmured, “It can wait ‘til after Christmas if you really can’t, but it needs to be soon, Draco.” He saw that fire burning in his husband’s eyes, the need to release his tensions and fears into Harry’s body as passion. Harry’s body was all-too ready to agree, it was only his conscience that was clinging to coherency.  
  
  
  
“Uhh!” Draco groaned with frustration, flipping Harry around so that his back was now to him. He ignored Harry’s silly, half-hearted words and forced his face into the shower wall, his hands rushing to Harry’s trousers and stripping them from his body.   
  
  
  
He didn't have time to think, he needed this, and now. His hand shot up to Harry’s head, holding it into the glass firmly. “You want me to fuck you, don't you?” Draco asked hoarsely. He already knew the answer to that question, and he knew Harry couldn't lie to him. “I want you, more than I have ever wanted anything. All the time, every minute, of every hour, of every bloody day. Don't deny me,” He purred once more before dropping to his knees behind him. He stretched those cheeks apart then and delved inside, his hungry tongue swiping at the tight, puckered entrance. Harry let out a huge gasp.  
  
  
  
“Oh – yes, lick me – lick my hole,” Harry gasped, tipping his forehead into the glass, his breath steaming up the surface and his glasses. He hated how insatiable Draco made him. Was it normal to want so much, so often of one person? He had no idea…  
  
  
  
“Taste me,” Harry pleaded, remembering their first night together, when Draco had shaved him down there. He didn’t know what the blond had done but he was grateful it hadn’t grown back; he could feel every slippery centimetre molesting his tender ring, saliva trickling between his cheeks. He clenched tightly around the tip of that invading tongue, groaning out his passion and flushing when his voice echoed, bowing his head to hide his noise. He didn’t like hearing his voice like that.  
  
  
  
“Hmm, you taste hot, _so good._ You're twitching around my tongue,” Draco teased, opening his cheeks wider to push his tongue in deeper. “I want to cum in you, you want my cum in you, don't you?” He groaned darkly, seductively, delving in again as if to convince him. Slowly he slid his finger into the soaked opening, rolling the digit around in wide circles, separating the entrance to Harry’s body so that he could almost see the dark, pink walls eating him greedily. “Fuck, I want you!”  
  
  
  
Harry’s head lolled uselessly on his shoulders and he half-panted, half-groaned his desperation out into the bathroom again, hearing Draco chuckle at the echo. He couldn’t believe that Draco fucking him bareback, a clause in their marriage that had revolted him before, was such a turn-on now. “Yes, cum inside me – fill me up. Don’t waste it!” He hissed, sliding down the wall of glass to rest in the cool, tiled floor, his upper-body flat against it while his arse swayed in the air temptingly.   
  
  
  
“Open me up first,” he murmured huskily into his arms, shame tainting his voice but it couldn’t mask the desire for what it was he asked. “Stretch me with…with something _else_. Give me something to warm me up for you,” he growled praying Draco got the hint.  
  
  
  
 _He’s got a whole dungeon full of gay sex toys I refuse to believe he can’t understand what I’m asking for,_ his mind gasped hungrily, his cock hard and leaking over the floor at the images of what Draco might think to use…  
  
  
  
“Play with me,” Harry all-but purred with a sway of his eager hips, leaving no room for misinterpretation.   
  
  
  
“You want me to use something, hmm?” Draco purred. Of course he’d gotten the hint. He raised his brows playfully, delighted at Harry’s request. He had been afraid he’d turned Harry off such ideas with how it had all began. “You want me to take you downstairs?” Draco asked cautiously between lashes of his tongue, referring to the dungeon. Harry nodded frantically. Draco licked his lips. “You want to pick something? Do you? If I take you down there?” He groaned, watching Harry shudder around his tongue. He swept it back over that hole again, demanding Harry answer. “Well?”  
  
  
  
Harry’s entire body shook with anticipation and arousal. He closed his eyes, wheezy, desperate breaths escaping him as he nodded frantically. This was a game of trust as well as pleasure – he hadn’t stepped foot down in that dungeon since he’d found out he was pregnant. He trusted Draco now, not to hurt him. Things weren’t the same as they were then, and this was a boundary he’d been contemplating crossing for a while now…  
  
  
  
“Take me…I want…I want you to play with me, I want you to toy with me,” Harry dry-sobbed, “I want you to make me want you so badly I’ll go insane without you!” He rubbed his thighs together at the possibilities, trying to alleviate the deep ache in his core that only Draco could release, his neglected cock bobbing against his stomach.  
  
  
  
“I want…want something…something kinky,” he gushed out, flushing to the roots of his hair with embarrassment. _You’re such a pillock,_ his mind spat, as Draco’s palm swatted his arse playfully, a devilish chuckle rolling off the blond’s lips.  
  
  
  
“You already _do_ go mad without me,” Draco corrected, sniggering as he pulled Harry up off the floor carefully and out of the bathroom. Smacking another deep kiss on those lips, he backed him into the curtain and reached for the door handle. “I'll give you something, something kinky,” Draco promised, kissing him passionately as they stepped down the steps to darkness.  
  
  
  
Draco growled against those lips, nibbling them between frantic pants and caresses with his tongue, wrapping his arms around Harry’s back to steady him as he lead him down. He tasted Harry’s every gasp for air, those wet lips parted, wanting more. But Draco had other ways he wanted to reward him…  
  
  
  
He’d been wrong at the start, the things he’d done to Harry, they _could_ have been pleasurable, but the way he’d done it… He intended to show Harry how amazing those things could feel, submission, restraints, with little, minute sparks of pain…  
  
  
  
Harry groaned as those lips darted out of the darkness to rape his mouth now and again. The feelings he held now, descending the stairs into darkness were so different from the first time, they warred in his hazy mind. But he could trust Draco now, couldn't he? He wanted this.  
  
  
  
Those hands never left him, Draco didn't release him from his touch, not once, not even when he felt that crimson carpet beneath his bare feet. He shuddered in anticipation of pleasure.  
  
  
  
Suddenly, the world burst into a soft, warm light and Harry blinked, dazzled by the light, raising a brow at his husband, who was grinning devilishly. “You're trying to distract me with sex,” Harry breathed, his words dusting Draco’s mouth as it lingered so close to his own, kiss-bruised lips. Subtle streaks of perspiration touched Harry’s naked torso, beading down his chest and painting his parted lips. Draco hardened at the sight.  
  
  
  
“ _Trying_?” He said with a fleeting, derisive look before he seized the back of Harry’s hair firmly, tugging him across the sex chamber into the centre. “I'm not trying anything, _Malfoy_ ,” Draco smirked. “You're gagging for it.”  
  
  
  
“Wanker,” Harry growled huskily, his green eyes shining like emeralds as they scanned the apparatus dotted around the room. He hadn’t tried everything yet, the place between his legs was twitching and hot to experience them. “Play with me,” Harry begged then, “Use whatever you want on me. Make me…make me…dirty,” he blushed even darker at that last word, but Draco was salivating at them.  
  
  
  
“Hmm, sure?” Draco teased, hands grasping his upper arms and pushing him gently back into the cabinet that held numerous _toys_ within. Harry stumbled but did not stop touching as Draco lifted his legs to sit him on the peculiar looking chair beside it. His hands drew to Harry’s wrists, and above, Harry noticed some chains hanging, chains with padded cuffs that Draco was locking around his wrists, that he was…  
  
  
  
Too late.  
  
  
  
He had been bound and Draco smirked as the position finally seemed to register in Harry’s sex-dazed mind. He stepped back to admire the site, Harry sitting there (as comfortable as Draco could make him) with his hands bound above his head. Harry was able to see the room again, his eyes wide and shining with naivety as he took it in properly. Draco moved over to the cabinet beside him, pulling out a small, shining pair of clamps before returning to his husband. “You want these on your tender little nipples do you, faggot? Or do you want something more?”  
  
  
  
Harry’s pink tongue darted out to taste Draco’s saliva on his lips, his gaze glistening with want. “I want them,” he panted. “Them and…and more!”  
  
  
  
He should feel shamed, by all rights, for the eagerness, the debauched words leaving him, but Draco’s expression, his teasing voice only made him hungrier. His hands tensed in the cuffs where they were stretched above his head and his body arched in frustration. “Don't just…just watch!” He groaned, the simple act of sitting there naked in front of this lustful devil making the hairs on his body stand on end. It was too much, the unwavering dedication Draco was watching him with. “Don't watch me so closely…”  
  
  
  
Draco chuckled. “I can't help it, you're so bloody delicious,” he said, kneeling down and reaching for Harry’s hard, neglected prick laughing as it sprang up eagerly under his chin. “And looking closely makes you harder, doesn't it? You shudder at the mere thought of me examining you. Maybe then…then I should put you back and examine you properly, Mr Malfoy? You actually _want_ me to check you over, don’t you, you little pervert?” Draco hummed, his words hotly brushing over Harry’s cock and he watched Harry stiffen at his words. “I have all kinds of _instruments_ I can use,” He promised, leaning in to lick once over the weeping slit.  
  
  
  
Harry gave a high, shuddering groan, opening his legs eagerly as his head hung back in ecstasy. Draco’s voice, why had it taken him so long to realise how amazing it was, especially when lowered to that husky purr that made his spine jerk forwards. That voice carried up the length of his cock in vibrating hums and Harry gasped, arching into him as far as his restraints allowed. “Y-Yes!” Harry insisted, wanting to test their boundaries of trust, their limits of pleasure. “Do it, the dirtiest things you can think of, do it, _please_!”  
  
  
  
Draco danced over to the table nearby, setting it out and pulling up a little tray (like something out of a hospital ward) and placing it beside the table. Upon the tray lay an arrangement of suspicious looking implements, some of which Harry had never seen before. Draco returned to Harry then, grinning. “I think I'll give you a warm up first,” He teased, taking one of the objects from the tray and clutching it inside his hand. He bent down then, looking at Harry’s pulsing organ, examining it closely, the way that made Harry twitch and shudder.   
  
  
  
“Hmmm,” he breathed over it, lifting the pinkish object in his hand and relishing in the way Harry’s cock twitched eagerly art the sight of it. It was long and Harry flushed at the sight of the ribbed opening that looked curiously like…  
  
  
  
“That’s right, never fucked a woman, have you, _Malfoy_?” Draco breathed, “This is probably the closest you’ll come then.” He lifted the toy, holding the vagina-shaped, pink end over Harry’s leaking cock, watching the lube from the object run down Harry’s convulsing shaft. “That’s it, your dainty little prick goes in here. It'll pump you up and then you'll really have something to groan for.”  
  
  
  
Harry didn’t really understand what that meant, but he hissed as the head of his swollen cock slid through the slick, petal-soft opening. He had no idea such dirty things existed! Tipping his head to the side so that it rested against one of his bound arms, he clamped his eyes shut to hide from the yearning. He felt Draco’s hand move the toy down, down over his cock and the sweet suction made his mouth open with a silent cry. And then, Draco began drawing it up and down his cock slowly. This was so deliciously sinful. His head was spinning.  
  
  
  
“S-So…oh, I… Draco what are you–?”  
  
  
  
“Feel good?” The blond teased, moving the object along him slowly. The suction pulled at the end, a brutal, tightening pleasure Harry had never experienced sucking at him, making him feel like his cock itself was expanding. Draco watched Harry’s lips part soundlessly, struggle for speech. He laughed softly, he liked being naughty with him. Dirty. “Hmm, that’s it, this will make your cock thicker and harder.”  
  
  
  
Harry wriggled when he said 'thicker' and then again when he said 'harder'. Why did those words sound so…?   
  
  
  
“I think you're ready for these too,” Draco hissed, reaching down where he had dropped the metal clamps and prising them open. “This big one can hang off your piercing, hmm?”  
  
  
  
“Hnnn!” Harry grumbled senselessly, nodding frantically against his arm. He squirmed as he felt one of his buds pulled taut and hot under the smaller clamp, the heavier of the implements weighing down his nipple ring. A gasp tore from his throat then, his hips jerking up into the toy still pulling on his cock as Draco flicked the clamp that clung to his piercing, a riveting pleasure/pain bolting through his tender bud. His cock leaked inside the object still jerking his length.  
  
  
  
“Feels…feels good,” Harry agreed, gasping for breath as if he were drowning in sensation. “M-make my – my cock big and swollen for you,” he pleaded, still not daring to open his eyes. His sweat-dampened fringe clung to his forehead and he rubbed it against his bicep, humping the tightness wrapped around his prick. “So dirty…!” He wasn’t sure whether these were muggle toys or magical ones, or a bit of both. But he was certain he wanted more.  
  
  
  
Draco reached for Harry’s restraints then, unlocking them and allowing his hands to fall to his sides. He pulled the toy from his husband’s swelling cock and groaned at the sight, leaning in close. “Look how red and fat it's gotten for me, it wants me, doesn’t it?” His tongue flickered over the swollen organ briefly, before Draco dived over it, taking the head inside his mouth. He could practically feel the pre-emission leaking from the tip and onto his tongue, staining him with the musky taste that he couldn't get enough of.   
  
  
  
“Nmmnn…!” Draco groaned senselessly, sucking along it. His hands shot to Harry’s thighs as he bobbed over it, his tongue forward into the slit again for a single lick. So much pleasure in so many places at once was driving his once prudish husband mad. He wanted more, his body was practically begging for it. “Hmm, get up then,” Draco instructed at last, dragging Harry to his feet. Harry swerved and stumbled, his legs shaking as he allowed the blond to twist him round and lift him onto the table Draco had lingered over earlier. He glanced aside at the objects on the tray for a few moments. But only a few, before he realised this table felt more like a bed.  
  
  
  
“Lay back,” Draco ordered huskily, watching his husband fall back onto the padded table. It was only then Harry noticed the collection of leather straps either side of him…  
  
  
  
Draco hummed softly, his eyes narrowed as he reached for the buckles binding Harry once more, only this time to the table. One wrist, then another, his neck and the final two binding his ankles so that his legs were kept up and spread. It was then that Harry did panic a little, his eyes clenching shut for a moment, before he realised he wanted to see Draco’s face. But with his neck constricted to the desk he couldn't raise it to look down at him. His body tensed where he lay, but he inhaled deeply, remembering his desire. He wanted this, he had asked for it, he was just worried that it might be more pain than pleasure, as it had before…  
  
  
  
Then he heard Draco’s heated, purring voice from down by his spread thighs.   
  
  
  
“Hmm, your cock is so bloody hot!”  
  
  
  
“Y-Yeah?” Harry asked warily, trying to keep the unease from his voice. Draco hadn’t tied him down like this since…  
  
  
  
He swallowed hard, the trepidation battling with the arousal Draco’s words inspired in his head. “Tell me, tell me how big it is, how much you want it?” Harry panted, his legs tensing in the leather straps holding his legs apart in the humiliating pose. He flushed dark with embarrassment, turning his head into the table. But he’d asked for this, he’d asked for the dirtiest Draco could give. Draco would make it good for him…wouldn’t he?  
  
  
  
 _He isn’t raping me, he_ wouldn’t _do that_ , Harry reminded himself as the blond lowered over his thick, swollen erection, so hard it _hurt_ every time blood pulsed through it. His head leaked silky pre-cum and he watched it slide down the shaft, right down to meet Draco’s tongue where it was lapping at the underside. He groaned despite his trepidation.   
  
  
  
“T-Talk to me…!” Harry insisted, his voice a pitch higher than he would have liked, but he had to crush the panic while he could, and he needed Draco’s voice before he let the unreasonable fear ruin everything.  
  
  
  
“Of course,” Draco said, reaching aside for one of the tools that Harry couldn't see. He felt something cold drizzle down his swollen cock and the panic inside his throat surged. “Trust me,” Draco murmured huskily. “ _Trust me_.” His cock was being covered, but the substance felt thick and heavy. What was it?  
  
  
  
“Sweet,” Draco murmured as he flicked his tongue once over the sodden head. Harry felt something else pop over the tip then and he groaned in frustration.  
  
  
  
“Hmm, I bet you know what this is though, don't you?” Draco chuckled. Harry would have nodded then, had he been in the position to. However, he was restricted in movement and so he bit down on his lip, giving Draco an answer that way, that yes, he knew.   
  
  
  
As the blond slipped the buzzing cock ring over the honey-coated end, Harry shuddered, he could smell the _‘lube’_ Draco had coated him in from above and his ass was twitching as the sticky, golden fluid slid down his crack. “You want something in this hole to?” Draco teased, his finger teasing his pucker through the thick coating of honey.  
  
  
  
He heard the sloppy, dirty slurping of Draco’s mouth molesting his honey-covered cock, and he tried to tilt his head up to see, but couldn’t without being choked. He swore the strap around his neck had tightened and he lay as flat to the table as he could, trying not to panic, but Draco’s voice echoed in his ears. _“Trust me…”_  
  
  
  
He could feel his cock shaking, jerking midair and spitting pre-emission onto the soft swell of his belly. His body was quivering, desperate to tear from his restraints and wriggle and squirm under Draco’s mouth. “N-No…” Harry whispered half-heartedly, his head swimming with embarrassment at being tied down and spread for Draco’s perusal…   
  
  
  
At least when they had done ‘adventurous’ things before he had had _some_ control – he could turn away, he could move if he felt uncomfortable. Now he was completely under Draco’s power, he had to trust him not to abuse it. His entire body tensed in his bonds and he struggled to focus on the warmth of Draco’s mouth as it ravished him.  
  
  
  
“Hnnn, eat me, lap me up like your favourite dessert…!” Harry breathed, feeling Draco’s finger caress his twitching ring of muscle lightly, prompting him silently for an answer to his question. “I… Yes…fill me, fill me up, please!”   
  
  
  
Draco sniggered at Harry’s tone, but respected his honesty, he had always been brave enough when it came to asking what he wanted, he admired that in him. There was fire in his voice, bravery. This was part of why he admired him. “I love it when you beg me, ask me. It makes me solid down here,” Draco said, gesturing towards his own hardness.  
  
  
  
He reached his hand out then and grabbed an egg-shaped bullet, the one with the higher vibration setting, along with another bottle of liquid, but this was not honey. Carefully, he flicked the lid open and squeezed the contents out over the tip of the toy, before moving it down to Harry’s already sticky, honey-coated entrance. “Hmm, tell me, again, what you want?”  
  
  
  
Harry blinked at him, his hole clenching in anticipation. “Want to be filled,” He whispered, his legs straining in their bonds, wanting to close and rub together to alleviate his ache. “Want you to play with my body until I can’t stand it – I want… I want you to treat me like…” His breath shuddered as it left his lips, “…like your slut…” He’d never wanted to be debauched so much in his life, but he needed it now, needed Draco to take and give to him in ways that he, Harry couldn’t imagine. He just needed it, like he needed air.   
  
  
  
“Make me your dirty slut, Malfoy,” Harry begged throatily, clearer this time.  
  
  
  
Draco’s eyes widened at his words, he felt every muscle in his body tighten at that request. “Holy fuck Harry Potter!” Draco groaned. “Harry, _Malfoy_ ,” He corrected himself slyly, eyes shining with passion, with lust, his heart thudding at the mere image of his pregnant husband begging for him. He climbed up on the table then, straddling Harry’s hips and dipping his tongue deep into Harry’s ear. “Do you know how fucking hard you make me sometimes? It’s like I'm going to cum, just from watching, just from you begging me. Do you realise how fucking much I want you?”  
  
  
  
His hand moved down then, with the bullet vibrating eagerly in his grasp. “Ready?” He purred. He could still feel the tension in Harry’s body, still see the slither of uncertainty in his face, but he would stop, if Harry asked. Right now, he thought his naïve husband simply needed his boundaries prodded a little…  
  
  
  
Harry nodded, not trusting his words and then, with Draco’s dark chuckle ringing in his ears, he felt the vibrating bullet breach his convulsing muscles. His head pressed back hard into the pillow and he cried out shamelessly, fighting against his bonds to thrust his cock up under Draco’s attention. The nipple clamps pinched deliciously, but it wasn’t enough.  
  
  
  
“Oh, _bloody hell_!” He groaned, feeling trapped, suffocated and worshipped at the same time. An unbearable tingling was building in his belly. It felt like he was going to burst. “Touch me! Touch me, I can’t stand it! Make me your slut, I can’t – can’t wait for it…!” Were he more coherent he would have been ashamed of the brazen lust on his voice, but now he was too lost in Draco to care. _Make me feel so much that I can’t think,_ he pleaded mentally, _touch me so deeply that everything else doesn’t matter…_  
  
  
  
Draco golden locks fell over his shoulders then, falling like a veil around his and Harry’s cheeks. His hands drew up his body in soft tickling circles until they reached the clamps and he gave them a small tug. Harry winced when Draco twisted them, but Draco knew he needed more, he needed more touch. Reaching over to the table beside him, he took another of the cock rings along with the honey, but this time, he covered the ring in the substance and forced Harry’s lips apart with two fingers, reaching inside for that muscle.   
  
  
  
Harry gasped as Draco slid the sticky vibrating ring over his tongue and Draco moved further up his body. He grabbed his wand and aimed it at himself, causing his clothes to vanish and he edged up, so his cock was hanging in Harry’s face. “Lick me. Lick me with that honey-covered cock ring, make the vibrations go all the way to my arse, my slut…”  
  
  
  
Harry swallowed, or tried to, drool leaking from his mouth where the vibrating ring around his tongue kept his lips parted. Draco was over him, trapping him even more with the band around his throat. He was being dominated, overpowered and his body was shaking, even as he stretched out his tongue to lap at the line of flesh leading down from the swollen head of Draco’s cock.   
  
  
  
Above him, Draco threw his head back at the vibrating kiss to his hot prick. Harry groaned at the numbing bliss in his mouth, drooling over Draco’s cock as he lapped at the weeping head like a lollypop. There was just something that made him insatiable when Draco had just called him that – in ‘that’ voice…  
  
  
  
“Ftt, ahh, that’s right slut, hmm,” Draco groaned, holding onto the chains above to steady himself over Harry. “Smother me with honey-coated kisses!” He breathed. “Use your tongue. Oh, that’s it… _bloody hell_!” Draco left one hand hanging above, and turned his body to the side to use his free hand to pull the clamp hanging off Harry’s nipple ring, making Harry arch hungrily up into his body.  
  
  
  
Draco grinned, taking hold of his cock and slapping it against Harry’s cheek. His cock throbbed at the senseless groan that left Harry’s lips at that and he lifted himself further up so Harry could work his tongue further along his skin. “Lick me! Slut, Lick me!”  
  
  
  
The vibrations at his body’s peaks bolted straight to Harry’s cock, making him struggle to thrust up into the air, seeking friction. He closed his eyes, groaning shamelessly as he strained against the bonds to mouth Draco’s balls. He felt Draco shudder and smirked, leading a wet, sticky trail down to his clenching arsehole. Any words he’d try to make would only sound slurred, so he hummed softly, pressing his sticky, searching muscle through the tight ring over his mouth.  
  
  
  
Harry winced at the sheer force of the pleasure. He couldn’t take it and not be touched. Couldn’t handle those arousing insults and not grind against something. “M-More!” Harry slurred out, eating Draco’s sacred place harder, deeper. “Do more!” He wanted Draco to push him to his limits so that his brain saw pure, white pleasure and nothing else. He wanted them both to escape for a while, and more, he wanted Draco to unleash everything, every frustration and anger he now felt, he wanted him to fuck him until he burnt it out of him.  
  
  
  
The blond’s lower body quivered against Harry’s lips, his touch, and the ring around Harry’s tongue making his arse twinge with each and every vibration. “Merlin, Harry, lick me, deeper, please!” Draco begged, pushing himself harder against Harry’s mouth. “You like licking my arse, hmm? You dirty slut, love it, don’t you?”  
  
  
  
Draco lifted off Harry then, drawing back to lay along his body and grinning as their eyes met. “Hmm, you want more?” Draco purred, reaching down to reach for the dial connected to the bullet inside Harry’s arse and slowly turning the dial up. He watched Harry bolt upwards, that body tightening and his teeth grinding together.  
  
  
  
“No,” Harry panted, “No, no more teasing. Harder, please, I need you to touch me!” Damn his bonds, damn Draco for the lack of touch, the torment, thrusting his assets in his face just out of reach. “You wanker – don’t torment me. _Play with me_!” His teeth ground into his gums hard, all trepidation shuddering away under the pressure of sexual frustration, the frustration at not being able to feel that body taking him thoroughly.  
  
  
  
“Hmm, you give in so easily, Harry, doesn’t it make you feel _so_ ashamed?” Draco teased, running his index finger along the shaft of that needy cock below him. “You don’t feel ashamed do you? You like lying here with your legs spreads, like the little slut you are. You have no shame, you just want to be fucked, don’t you?” Draco crawled down Harry’s body then, his hair falling along his rounded stomach to tickle his skin gently and watch his husband quiver.  
  
  
  
Finally he had edged back off the table and his head was hovering oh, so close to Harry’s neglected erection. It was thick and hard and throbbing now and Harry arched up frantically, begging, _wanting_. “If you tell me to ‘suck it, suck it’ I’m only going to wait and watch you squeal, Harry…”  
  
  
  
Harry growled in frustration, pressing his head back hard into the table, his toes curling in need. “N-No!” Harry insisted, his cock arching up towards his belly where the tickling sensation of Draco’s hair the moment before still remained. It felt like he was still touching him, all over and the vibrations were sending his body into spasms. He thought his tongue was going numb, drool was sliding down his chin. “Don’t tease me – I can’t take it, I – I need…” He shuddered again, the only movement he could manage with his restraints. “Don’t – don’t just watch, need you to touch me!”  
  
  
  
If it were possible to cum just from being looked at in combination with the sinful vibrations seizing his body’s control, Harry was pretty close…  
  
  
  
“You _need_ me to touch you, hmm? You’re simply going to _go mad_ without my touch aren’t you?” Draco was ravishing in his teasing, swimming in the unbearable bliss. He knew what strings made Harry’s body sing, and his own body answered back, without being touched at all. _Doing_ this to Harry, for Harry, was enough. “So, tell me, Mr Potter Malfoy, you dirty tart, where would you like my tongue to go first?”  
  
  
  
Harry wriggled at his tone, at his words still, feeling the hotness of that breath dance across his leaking, aching prick.   
  
  
  
“Hmmm,” Draco hissed, dragging his tongue wetly down the back of Harry’s leg, drawing a line of spittle along his flesh until he reached those tight, heavy bollocks hanging near that pulsing organ.  
  
  
  
Harry felt sweat drip down to meet Malfoy’s tongue and he quivered, his lashes fluttering behind his fogged up spectacles. “Hmmm yes,” he gurgled through the buzzing toy on his tongue, “My balls suck them, _please_!” He saw Draco glare up at him sexily and there was no way that he could miss Harry salivating. The blond hummed sexily against his flesh, before mouthing the sensitive sac. “Hmm!” Harry groaned, “More, lick me!”  
  
  
  
He felt that tongue lap at him, before one of his balls were sucked into Draco’s mouth, his arse twitching and quivering against his husband’s chin. His arms tensed in his bonds, aching to reach down and jerk his neglected cock. “S-So good, your mouth s-so hot…”  
  
  
  
“You taste musky but sweet as well, because of the honey. You’re so hot down here, but I like it, I love the way you taste, the scent you leave on my tongue, it’s so…so fucking… _hell_!” Draco groaned, licking heavily from the base of that cock and over the honey coated ring until he reached the tip. “I’m going to suck you now, eat you up. You want me to eat you more than anything right now, don’t you? That’s how worked up I’ve made you.”   
  
  
  
Harry would have nodded, had he been in the position to do so, but with his restraints, all he could do was gurgle out the word, “ _Yes_!”  
  
  
  
Harry mouthed that rock hard cock then, suckling the end and slowly and pressing slowly down the skin, the organ pulsed immediately at his sticky touch, pushing itself deeper inside when Draco stopped half way down. Caught on Harry’s words. He begged and begged for Draco not to tease, but he couldn’t help himself as he pulled back out and slid his tongue down away from the cock as he began to nibble at his heavy ball sack, tenderly licking over the delicate skin.  
  
  
  
Taking one full ball into his mouth, Draco sucked carefully, his lips massaging while his wet tongue circled his mouthful. “Hmm, they feel tight. You want to cum bad?”  
  
  
  
Harry nodded frantically, as much as the restraints allowed but then, as if realising that wasn’t enough, he scraped out a strangled “Yes.” But when Draco slid up further, allowing a line of saliva to drizzle over the head of his cock teasingly, he let out a groan of frustration. He needed to cum so badly. “No, not like – fuck me, now… I need to cum,” Harry gasped.   
  
  
  
Draco merely chuckled, dragging his mouth up and down that thick length a few times before drawing back irritatingly.  
  
  
  
Harry cried out. “D-Don’t…want to cum…stick your cock on me, _please_!”  
  
  
  
“Beg me, hmm? Go on, beg for my perfect, delicious cock!” Draco growled watching Harry grit his teeth in frustration. “Beg me, you want it, don’t you? You want me to ream your arse, don’t you? Well then…” Draco leant over again, breathing into his ear, “Beg me, beg me as loud as you can, like nothing I’ve ever heard!”  
  
  
  
Harry seemed to tense beneath him. Draco could practically smell the irritation steaming off his husband, his body beaded with sweat and musk of desire. But Draco was revelling in his smell, his need, his _everything_. This was Harry.  
  
  
  
“I – I feel like I’m…” Harry swallowed hard. “Like I’m burning up – like my cock is on fire, my arse wants you, wants you so badly…” He breathed in deeply, his chest heaving and toes curling in so hard that they hurt but Draco didn’t move. Harry knew what he wanted. He closed his eyes, hiding his face in the padding as best he could as he murmured huskily, “Please, I need it, I’m such a… I’m your slut – I’m a good slut aren’t I? Mr Malfoy? I deserve to be fucked…?”   
  
  
  
He felt Draco harden against him at his voice and he flushed dark with humiliation at his own words.  
  
  
  
Draco couldn’t believe how far his confidence had come, so daring, so dirty, he liked it. It made him want to burst just by the mere words he spoke. “Hmm, I suppose you do deserve to be punished, don’t you?” Draco purred, humming over that hot place below. “I’ll reward you then.” At last.   
  
  
  
Draco moved his hand down and pushed at the twitching hole where the bullet was inside. “Hmm, you think you can handle my cock in here as well?” He mused, considering fucking while the bullet was still inside. “Does my slut think she is capable of that, or is my cock to much? With these toys?”  
  
  
  
Harry nodded frantically, wishing he had control of his limbs so that he could spread his legs wider, or drag Draco down to his body impatiently. “I – I can take it, I’m a good slut… I can take it all, and your cock, right down to the base. Fill me up?” He couldn’t help himself, he was so different to the prudish virgin he’d been a few months ago. Now, the simple sound of Draco Malfoy calling him _his slut_ made his cock leak and his body jerk upwards. He felt feverish everywhere…  
  
  
  
“Hmm, and to think, at the beginning you said you would never like it…” Draco looked lost for a moment, but it was more of a content lost than a troubled one. He felt a river of bliss circle over him, radiating through the very air he breathed in waves as he stretched the entrance to Harry’s body carefully. He pressed his swollen tip to the shuddering opening, tensing at the delicious vibrations he felt around him. “Ready, slut?”  
  
  
  
Harry let out a shallow cry, his chest rising and falling rapidly but for all it’s worth he felt like he hadn’t drawn in a single breath. He felt light-headed, he felt hot and shivery and his arse clenched tightly around the thick head of Draco’s cock. He hissed at the delicious stretching sensation, the feeling of his slick chute being forced open, painfully slow, like a flower opening.  
  
  
  
White-hot, that’s how hot it felt inside him. And his fingers curled into tight fists. “Always – always ready for you,” he panted, the last syllable a dry sob of bliss as he swallowed the flared purple tip, the thick, pulsing shaft sliding in after it, filling him completely. Stretched and so full of someone else, someone who worshipped his every breath for the sheer fact that it kept _him,_ Harry, alive – it was so amazing that liquid glazed over his eyes with the overwhelming passion.  
  
  
  
“Y-You – you make me feel so…amazing,” he gasped out, blinking up at Draco who was leaning over him now, his arms either side of Harry for leverage. “Like I can – can do _anything_. I – you’re too much…it feels like I’m on _fire_ …!”  
  
  
  
“You set me on fire too, Harry,” Draco breathed, leaning in, their tongues clashing and Draco pressed deeper, teething the vibrating from Harry’s now numb tongue and setting it aside to taste him completely. “Delicious,” Draco groaned against those lips, slipping his cock deep into the stretching entrance and sliding forward.   
  
  
  
Harry gasped as Draco’s cock hit him deep inside, nudging the vibrating toy into his prostate.  
  
  
  
“Still think you can handle it?” Draco teased, his voice daring him.  
  
  
  
“Hmmmnhhh!” Harry ground out senselessly, his jaw aching from the tension, every limb quivering with the need to wrap itself around the blond’s body. “U-Untie me!” He pleaded. “Can’t – can’t touch you like this!” And he wanted to, everywhere, wanted to stretch along the length of him like a cat in heat. Hell, he’d purr if Draco wanted him to, he’d do anything. He was dying in bliss, so warm all over he felt his skin may combust with pleasure. He trusted him, trusted him to take his bodily sensations right over the boundary of humiliation and pleasure, until he was near sobbing with it. He could trust him. He hadn’t been certain before, but now…  
  
  
  
“Untie me!” Harry begged again breathily, “I want – want to feel you…!”  
  
  
  
“Hmm…” Draco leant up then, untying the buckle from Harry’s neck, but leaving his hands bound. “You can see me now, that’s a good enough reward, isn't it? You surely can't want _more_?” Draco breathed, reaching in to sweep his mouth over a tanned nipple, flicking his tongue around the erect bud until it was pointy and wrinkled.   
  
  
  
“You taste hot!” Draco groaned. “So hot, the pre-cum slicking from your cock is dirtying my belly, Malfoy. You should apologise for your uncleanliness,” Draco teased. “You like being a dirty little slut though, don't you?”  
  
  
  
Harry nodded vigorously, glad to have control of the movement in his neck at last and he strained his newly freed throat to the side, silently begging to have it ravished as the rest of him.   
  
  
  
“Dirty,” Harry agreed breathlessly, “Love – love being dirty for you, makes me s-so…” He swore his eyes rolled into the back of his head as Draco’s hips rolled up against his, grinding over the tender dimple inside that made him see stars. He could feel the honey sticking to his cock, his arse and he panted heavily at Draco’s debauched mutterings, never thinking he would ever get off at being verbally abused. But now, he felt like his skin was glowing with it.  
  
  
  
“Hmm, yes,” he groaned as Draco mouthed his pulse, before catching the tender flesh of his neck between his teeth and molesting it with his tongue. “Y-Your mouth! So hot!”  
  
  
  
“That’s right. You're my slut, and I-I’m fucking you. Bloody hell, I’m…” Draco winced at the feelings, desires sweeping through his torrid blood. Obeying his lust-dazed urges, he lay a trail of frantic, feather-soft kisses and nips along that neck, while his hand slipped down, caressing the length of Harry’s body. Feeling him, holding him, _needing_ him, like he was everything. Everything. Grasping his hips, he held him close, grinding their sticky bodies together, enough friction between them to set them both alight in the fiery passion.  
  
  
  
“Uhh, I feel so… _Merlin_ , I…” Sex had never felt so good. He had had sex so many times before, but this was amazing, he felt more connected to Harry than ever. Shuddering against him, his skin tingling all over, Draco groaned at the feel of honey drizzling down his shaft from Harry’s tight hole.  
  
  
  
“Yes – you love me like this, don't you? Dirty, helpless, crying out beneath you?” Harry rambled, closing his eyes and arching as much as he could into those hands, that mouth, the shuddering, blood-boiling pleasure. He felt his tight, slick channel convulse around Draco’s prick and he groaned out unrestrainedly.   
  
  
  
He realised now. This was their playroom, their playground – he could be what he wanted here, let go of everything and just feel with Draco steering his body towards chaotic bliss, and it would remain his and Draco’s secret. “C-Cum. Cum over me, make a mess of me!” He pleaded, feeling his own release coil up in his belly. The vibrations on his cock from the toy spiralling down to the place where Draco’s hardness was battering the vibrator into his pleasure spot inside him. He saw stars.  
  
  
  
“M-Make me – make me lose control, make me – I want to…!” He lost his words to sensation then as Draco’s body pressed tight to his, his thrusts into him fast and deep and wanting.  
  
  
  
“Fuck, Harry, you're so hot!” Draco gasped, his body singing in sticky, white-hot bliss, his cock was swelling inside Harry’s arse, his pleasure rising up and reaching its limit. Except he felt like he was limitless. “I'm close…so close!” Draco gasped, grasping Harry’s member and ripping the cock ring from it. Stroking the thick, abused organ liberally, Draco relished in the slick sounds and the sticky honey lubricating his strokes as he brought Harry with him towards his climax. “Cum for me, slut. Cum for me, spill you're dirty cum all over me!”   
  
  
  
“Hmmmm, yes, you make me feel so – so…!” But Harry never finished his sentence for his world was overwhelmed with his climax and his body tensed so tightly in his bonds that he hurt as his vibrating prick jerked white semen out between them both, dribbling down the side. His arse clenched involuntarily, sucking Draco deeper and squeezing, wringing the blond's own orgasm from him and drinking up every salacious drip.  
  
  
  
A cry of negation left him then as Draco pulled out, his eyes snapped open and he gazed blearily up at Draco as his husband let the last few spurts splash over Harry’s body. Harry hummed hazily, enjoying the feel of Draco’s fingers smoothing over his overheated, oversensitive skin, but then he felt the body above him stiffen and he frowned until a frighteningly familiar voice cut through his euphoria like a knife through butter.  
  
  
  
“Oh my–! Draco, what on _earth_?!”  
  
  
  
Harry craned his neck, a dark flush of very unsexual humiliation tearing through his giddy body as he saw Snape and Narcissa staring at them in horror. _What must we look like?_ He mentally gasped, wishing he could cover himself with his hands, but they were still tied. Oh god. They were watching them, Draco kneeling over his bound, pregnant body, cum splattered over them both and leaking from his gaping hole, the toys still going, making his oversensitive body jerk against his will.  
  
  
  
Draco snapped from his post-orgasmic bliss at the sight and sound of the visitors in the doorway, swallowing hard. Even though they were looking at him in disgust, Draco knew his mother was most likely more concerned about the room itself. He could see her, in shock, staring around at the objects around them, quite horrified. “D-Draco… W-What _is this_ …?!” She brought a hand to her mouth to cover her mouth, wide with shock, Snape standing silently beside her, lost for words.   
  
  
  
Draco pulled himself out of Harry’s body, snatching up his trousers and underwear and hastily redressing himself. “It's called knocking, if you've ever heard of it,” Draco spat at the unwelcome visitors.  
  
  
  
Harry pulled furiously against his bonds, trying hard to close his legs and failing. “Draco!” He demanded and the blond glanced at him with a raised brow, but didn't come to his aid.  
  
  
  
Across the room, Snape surveyed him incredulously, while Narcissa looked quite faint. “Draco,” she gasped, as her son struggled into his trousers. “I knew you had…had tortured Harry but I never thought that you would revert back to… What sort of extremes will you go to?” She glanced at the table Harry was strapped to and the machines nearby; only grateful he was not under their power now. “And to use them on him while he is pregnant? Draco, I thought you had learned your lesson! What if you had hurt your daughter?”  
  
  
  
She marched over then, unbuckling the straps holding Harry down and giving him the courtesy of looking away as he dove down for his clothes, averting his own gaze shamefully. She turned to Draco once more, confused by his laid-back attitude. “I thought that you two were getting along better?” She asked, confused, her voice level and calm despite that it was combined with anger. “You were angry at Severus and you took it out on your husband? You pregnant husband?”  
  
  
  
Harry kept his head down, shamefaced. He felt quite ill with embarrassment, and not the nice kind he had felt under Draco’s dominance moments ago…  
  
  
  
Then, his hand moved down to his belly as he felt his daughter kick softly, evidently having awoken her with their activities and his anxiousness. But Snape had been watching him and Harry jumped to find the man at his side, and staring with those dark eyes at where his hand petted his belly through the shirt he'd leapt into.   
  
  
  
“Are you both alright?” Snape asked, meaning Harry and the child. Harry nodded dumbly. He wished they'd not ask him that. He was fine, better for that 'session' in fact, for that intimacy. But how could he tell them that? That he was the one that'd asked for it. His cheeks darkened with humiliation.  
  
  
  
“I'll say it then, since Harry can't. I wasn't torturing him, we…we were _playing_ ,” Draco said, flushing as the word 'playing' slipped over his lips. “And if you don't believe me, ask him yourself. He was gagging for it,” Draco stated, making sure that had been clear. “All of these things have special charms on them. You think I'd put Harry and my child in harms way, _still_?” Draco growled out, defensive. He moved over to Harry then, knocking his husband’s shaky hands aside and buttoning his shirt for him, glaring into those green eyes as he breathed, “Well, go on, tell Severus and _Mummy_.”  
  
  
  
Harry stared, mortified up at Draco. He wouldn't even admit to Ron or Hermione the debauched things he encouraged Draco to do to him, much less Narcissa and his old teacher! He cleared his throat, before swallowing hard, trying to find his voice and then, Draco straightened Harry’s shirt roughly, jerking him into speech.  
  
  
  
“I… Draco hasn't tortured me like that since he found out about the baby,” Harry assured his mother-in-law and Snape both. Draco’s head tilted, as if prompting him to elaborate. Harry fixed his gaze on where Draco’s fingers were lingering over the buttons over his bump. “I… Draco was frustrated and I…” He was rambling, procrastinating; did they really have to know he was letting Draco burn off his frustration with sex? Well they knew now.  
  
  
  
“I…I asked him to bring me down here, I wanted to try… _stuff_ … I can trust him with it, he would have let me go if I'd asked him to…” His voice was so quiet, but his audience had heard just fine and what was more, when he braved a glance up into Draco’s eyes, he saw them shining. He knew Draco was fixed on the declaration of trust.  
  
  
  
“Well, if you are going to be going around doing these debauched things, at least wait until we aren’t sitting around waiting for you upstairs,” Narcissa snapped, still concerned for Harry’s welfare. She walked over to Draco then, her stern eyes riveted to his. Raising her hand to his cheek she leant in and kissed his forehead. “I don't even feel like I know you anymore, Draco.”  
  
  
  
Draco flinched a little, never liking his mother saying such things to him and he sighed with frustration. “We were _just fucking_!” Draco said through clenched teeth. She stepped back then to take a look at him. But she still looked rather ashamed of him, he could tell. What had started as a distraction had only lead to more heartache. Why did she have to do this all the time? It wasn't like there weren't other couples who did this daring stuff!  
  
  
  
“Mrs Malfoy?” Harry began tentatively, his heart aching for the pain in Draco’s eyes. “Draco and I, we just wanted to do something, something that made…it distracted us for a while about… _things_. I – I wanted it as much as he did. Draco wouldn't hurt me.”  
  
  
  
Narcissa surveyed him uneasily and next to her, Snape cleared his throat unnecessarily. “Perhaps youths these days simply require a bit more… _spark_ in the bedroom, Narcissa,” Snape tried, his gaze weighing on Draco. Except Snape knew exactly what Draco had wanted to be distracted from. “I imagine after the horrors they have endured in their lives, it may lead way for some…unorthodox pleasures.”  
  
  
  
Harry frowned, not really understanding how Snape intended for that to help. “Your son is a good man,” Harry said at last, his voice almost defiant. “And he may have hurt me before but if I've forgiven him that should be good enough for everyone else.”  
  
  
  
Narcissa's nose rolled up. How could she forgive the things he had done? Even though he was her son and she loved him no matter what, this _dark side,_ it was a part of him she now knew to be there. She couldn’t help but feel that this darkness could come out, anytime, with the right probing, that he could hurt Harry again, if he was worked up to boiling point.  
  
  
  
“Maybe so,” She said quietly. Draco knew she didn't agree, but she continued nevertheless. “If this is what you youths get up to, then I suppose it's understandable, I just…”  
  
  
  
Draco winced. He supposed it was just as disturbing for her to see as it was to him that she _had_ seen. “Well, we’re both fine, can you please do the decent thing and leave us to it?” Draco asked, realising that his and Harry’s bodies were still dirty and covered in less than innocent substances.  
  
  
  
Snape gave them both a look that spoke volumes before steering Narcissa towards the stairs. “You need to decide what you are going to do, Draco, whether it is me you discuss it with or your husband, that is at your discretion, but it needs to happen.” And with that he ascended the stairs. Harry exhaled shakily as the door above closed noisily.  
  
  
  
“They're going to be looking at us funny all the way through Christmas dinner now,” Harry murmured as he pocketed his wand (which he knew was rendered useless in this room thanks to the wards) and stood in front of Draco, waiting for the blond to perform the cleaning charm. “You…you're not upset are you?” He asked, not sure. He'd thought Draco should feel better, a bit relieved after their activities. But the shadow of Lucius Malfoy still loomed, it appeared.   
  
  
  
Reaching forward, he smoothed the creases from Draco’s shirt with his palms flat to the blond's chest, just as Draco had done to him a moment ago. “Is there…let me help?” He suggested, wanting something to do for him besides being pregnant.  
  
  
  
“I'm fine!” Draco snapped, swatting Harry’s hand aside as it reached for him. But his expression told a different story. Harry advanced on him then, begging him to let him help.  
  
  
  
“You can't help,” Draco snapped, “Y-You took me away just now, but then reality stepped back in and I…” Draco felt his hands tremble. “I have to get on and do things,” He said, moving across from Harry to the stairs. Harry hurried after him as they both reached the top and grabbed him just as they stepped back into the bedroom.  
  
  
  
“I said _no_!” Draco screamed, ripping his arm from his grip.  
  
  
  
Harry flinched at his tone but wasn't about to roll over and cry. He turned his wand on himself now they were out of the dungeon, charming away the dirt before following after Draco. “You can't shut me out,” he insisted, trailing into their sitting area after him. “We're in this together – I'm having your bloody baby, you can't ignore me!”  
  
  
  
Draco whirled to face him then, seething.  
  
  
  
“Lucius is my problem too, it's me he wants to torture, me and…” Harry’s voice faltered a little then.  
  
  
  
“Back off!” Draco snapped, his eyes full of intense hurt, fury, he didn't want to go over this again. He had already spoken about it, nothing had changed. He had felt complete for a moment, but just for a moment. The problem was still there, always there, it was never going to go away. “If I wanted to talk, I'd talk, if I wanted to fuck, I’d fuck and if I tell you to back off, you bloody do it! Do you understand?”  
  
  
  
Harry stared at him incredulously, not seeing how they would all be able to sit down for the early Christmas dinner Narcissa had arranged for that evening, at least not and talk at the same time. He grit his teeth in frustration. “I'm staying, that's what we decided, isn't it? But how can we ever be safe if we don't–” He was cut off as Draco’s arms slammed into the door either side of his head, trapping him there between the door and Draco’s fury.   
  
  
  
Harry snarled. “Don't you lord over me, Draco Malfoy!” He snapped, shoving Draco away from him. He didn't like people trying to intimidate him. “I can't sit pretty and wait for the threat to come to us, I – _I can't_ , Draco.” And more than that, Draco would always be unsettled, volatile, so long as the threat remained.  
  
  
  
Draco growled in frustration, his hands shaking either side Harry’s head “What do you expect me to do? I don't…” Draco’s head lowered and he bit down on his lip. “I don't know what I'm supposed to do here!” Draco shouted, pushing himself from the door when he spoke and turning his back on Harry.  
  
  
  
“I don't want to talk to you about this right now.”  
  
  
  
Harry gnawed his lip thoughtfully for a moment, reaching out to run his fingers through Draco’s locks soothingly. “But…that's just it, you'll never feel ready to, you'll never know you're until you try.” Draco was avoiding his eyes now and Harry sighed, leaning in closer, so that his breath dusted Draco’s cheeks. “Alright,” he said at last, “I…I'll wait, it's alright.” His warm hand travelled the length of Draco’s neck, stroking it as his lips met his ever so briefly. “It's alright…”  
  
  
  
He let a small, soothing hum shudder through his lips, his eyes closing for a moment. “You've got me,” he reminded him, and when he felt Draco give a small, sad sound, he smiled softly. “This is going to be our first Christmas together,” he said, trying to incite a smile. “I like Christmas.”  
  
  
  
“Hmm,” Draco murmured thoughtfully with a small shrug. The original point of taking him down there to fuck his brains out was to distract himself. He didn't think he'd be brought back to this so easily. Still, Harry seemed optimistic about the next few days, didn’t he? Perhaps their first Christmas together _could_ still be the first good one, with Harry here at least. It wasn’t lost on him that Harry never failed to try and make the best of a bad situation, that he never failed to try and set him and ease lately, make him smile…  
  
  
  
“Yeah, Christmas,” He said, not wanting to meet Harry’s gaze. He walked over to the bedside table and pulled the draw open, reaching inside for his wand. He was still dirty. But just as he went to cast the spell he found Harry had beaten him to it. He looked down at himself and a slight smile slipped from the corner of his lips. “Thanks.”  
  
  
  
Harry gave an uneasy smile, grateful for the sight of one on Draco’s lips. Arguing with Draco upset him more than he felt it ought to lately. “You’re welcome,” he said.  
  
  
  
  
  
 _~To Be Continued..._


	20. Seasonal Anticipation

[Twenty]  
  
 **Seasonal Anticipation**  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
It was not the light of the sun creeping through the curtains that awoke him but soft, lightly flickering coloured light. His eyelids tensed and he winced as he gave a small stretch, only to find the bed beside him as cold as the December air outside. A frown creased Harry’s brow and he made a disgruntled, sleepy sound as he struggled to sit up, pulling the duvet tight up to his chin, clinging to the warmth.   
  
  
  
The sight of the fluttering, multihued lights confused him in his dazed state, that was, until he reached for his glasses on the side table, sliding them on his nose. He lost a few breaths when he saw it and his body tried to compensate for it all in one gasping inhalation. In the corner of the bedroom suite, brightening the dark corner (thanks to the still-drawn curtains) sat a large tree. Magical snow and decorations were draped over the branches amongst the circles of changing lights and he could not help the smile that reached his lips.   
  
  
  
_You’re such a goofy geek,_ Harry told himself, but that did not dampen the moment. _At least that explains why Draco isn’t in bed_ , he thought, realising that he must have gotten up early to do it for him. He hadn’t expected anything like this, not from the man who’d spent the whole dinner last night with Narcissa and Snape, teasing him about his emphatic excitement about Christmas and presents.  
  
  
  
Then, the door from the sitting area opened and Harry saw Draco poke his head round before walking into the room, holding a small pile of parcels. Harry decided that the best part of the morning was already the awkward but sincere smile on Draco’s face at that moment.   
  
  
  
“Happy Christmas!” Harry said, “Thank you for the tree, it’s amazing! I can’t believe you did it all for me.” He also was willing to swear Draco was now thinking just how easily pleased he was…  
  
  
  
“It was easy with magic, it was no trouble, really,” Draco assured him. But Harry knew only extremely exhausting magic could have put something so spectacular together in such a short amount of time. Draco moved closer to him, ushering him into the lounge. “You will have to use the downstairs loo today, our bathroom is out of bounds, and besides, you can't get in there as I've locked it,” Draco stated. That sounded too suspicious, and Harry wondered just what he was up to…   
  
  
  
Eric popped in to greet the men, handing them both a glass of lightly bubbling, amber liqiud. Harry looked up at Draco with a hesistant look. The blond just nodded. “It’s safe, it won’t harm the baby.”  
  
  
  
Harry studied him for a moment, before realising Draco had most likely checked before offering it to him before sipping at it slowly. The liquid felt nice and warm running down his throat – he hadn’t tasted it for so long. “S’Good,” he murmured with a smile that never left his lips. He knew that they had planned to visit the Weasleys later for Christmas lunch, but he had no idea about the tree, or anything else Draco had planned before that. _Or after,_ his mind supplied with a flush. He wondered, as Draco hovered the breakfast tray to the table, if Draco had gotten him anything. And then that reminded him…  
  
  
  
“I – I got you a present,” he began, moving over to the bureu and pulling a small parcel from inside, handing it over to Draco sheepishly. “I…I did try to wrap it,” he said, referring to the shoddy workmanship on the wrapping paper, with a red bow stuck to the top. “It’s not much, so… But…anyway, Merry Christmas,” He leant in to give Draco a fleeting kiss on the forehead before sitting on the settee, too embarrassed to watch Draco open it…  
  
  
  
“You're such a geek, Harry,” Draco laughed light-heartedly as he took the present. It was nice to see him smiling like that, it didn't happen often. Carefully, he unwrapped the paper revealing the contents within. His eyes flickered and his heart jumped with emotion, so simple, so easy, yet so… Draco didn't say anything for a moment, simply holding the precious gift in his hands, gazing down at it. Lost for words.  
  
  
  
“When was this taken?” Draco asked, referring to a magical picture of both himself and Harry that he been placed inside a glossy frame, which changed with the light giving off an otherwordly glow. It was beautiful magic, but it was the photograph that had stunned him. Harry and himself standing close together, smiling at each other as if they had not noticed the photographer’s presence, like it was natural. like they were an actual couple…  
  
  
  
Harry shrugged and cleared his throat uneasily, shuffling his feet under the coffee table. The light glanced off the magical frame and he remembered the image with such clarity that it made him flush. The two of them wrapped around each other – happy. “A few weeks ago,” He murmured at last, finding his voice, but still not meeting Draco’s eyes. It felt like such a silly gift now, Draco had no doubt spent a fortune and such effort perfecting that tree for him to wake up to…  
  
  
  
“When you took me to the party the Weasleys held for the baby – Mrs Weasley took it.” Draco didn’t say anything for some time and when Harry finally braved a glance back up at him, he saw the blond transfixed by the gift in his hand. Harry shifted awkwardly. “I know I’m _really pregnant_ in that picture but…you look good and…we were…we’re smiling, like we mean it – it’s the only one I could find where we were honestly happy. I know it’s a crappy gift…” He realised he was rambling then in his insecurity about the present, and finally, Draco looked up at him.   
  
  
  
“It's… _perfect,_ ” He said in such a low tone. Sighing. “Now I'm not so certain my gift matches up, which is just as well, since you have to wait until later for it,” Draco said, watching Harry’s brow knit together in confusion.  
  
  
  
Harry’s intital thought was that maybe 'sex' was what Draco had in mind, and he had to admit, if that was what was waiting, he'd be a tad disappointed. Only beause he thought Draco valued him a bit more than that now. More than just a sexual instrument.  
  
  
  
Taking the frame, Draco set it on the coffie table beside the settee in their lounge. reaching for the pile of presents to find one for Harry. He tossed him a neatly wrapped parcel from his mother. “Like I said, mine comes later,” Draco assured him, clearing the beginnings of that pout from Harry’s face.   
  
  
  
_It’s hopefully not sex,_ Harry thought, not that he didn’t enjoy sex but he had been hoping that maybe…  
  
  
  
“Your mother didn’t have to get me anything,” he said, but opening it all the same with a smile. He loved presents. He felt Draco settle down onto the couch beside him, reaching for his morningly cup of coffee that Eric had set out for him on the tray next to Harry’s customary pumpkin juice. This felt nice, opening presents with Draco on Christmas morning in their room – _their_ room.   
  
  
  
The first box from Narcissa (all of which were wrapped pristinely in green paper with silver ribbon) carried a thick, soft shawl which he didn’t quite understand until he plucked the neat note from within. _For the many sleepless nights ahead of you._ Pulling it out of the box, he examined it more thoroughly, and guessed from the way Draco looked at it, that it had been something Narcissa used to wrap around her shoulders when she was looking after Draco.   
  
  
  
His nose crinkled, not able to picture his husband as a baby, not ever. But running his fingers over the soft, white wool, he felt it heat immediately on his cold hands – enchanted, as he had suspected. The Malfoys never did anything by half measures.  
  
  
  
The next box was small, brown box from Snape. Harry could not help but smirk at his old professor’s lack of enthusiasm in the wrapping. “It says both of our names on it,” Harry said to Draco, who had just finished with two presents from his mother and was pulling the third into his lap. He felt Draco lean in a little closer, shuddering pleasantly at his warmth as he lifted the lid on the box. There was a large, crystal vial inside and he frowned as he lifted it from the case, reading the note attatched.   
  
  
  
_“For those aches and pains. Don’t overdo it. S.S.”_ Harry read aloud, smirking at the insinuation. “It’s the serum for massages – looks like I’m getting my own masseur later?” Harry prompted, feeling quite giddy with the morning’s events. “I have another one from your mother, what’s in this one?”  
  
  
  
Draco slowly opened the third gift, unwrapping the shiny emerald parcel. Slowly he pulled out a small tissue-wrapped object, that glimmered with the Christmas lights. He flushed at the sight of it. It was the slytherin crest, the heirloom he had been given when he’d been made prefect – the one Lucius had taken away when he’d failed to identify Harry when they had held him prisoner during the war. A note lay inside now, which read: _for someone special._  
  
  
  
He knew exactly what that meant. “This wasn't for me…this was for you,” He said, handing the small serpant crest to Harry carefully.  
  
  
  
Harry took the delicate, shining object in his fingers, caressing it gently. There was a glint in Draco’s grey gaze that suggested how significant this was, and he swore he remembered it from their sixth year in particular. “Thanks,” Harry said sheepishly, setting it back into the box safely. “It’s really nice. It was yours wasn’t it?” Draco gave him the slightest of nods and Harry smiled, setting the box down carefully. “I love it then.” There was one box left, with both of their names on again and Harry pulled it forward to that it lay partly on Draco’s knee as he pulled open the ribbon. Inside lay a perfectly white piece of paper, nothing more, and he frowned as he plucked it out of the box. _For all of you, the new door on the left._  
  
  
  
Harry frowned at Narcissa’s handwriting. “What new door?” He asked, confused, getting to his feet. And then he saw it, to the left of their bedroom door, where once a tapestry of Malfoy ancestry had hung, the family tree was now a hanging on the front of the _‘new door’_. He hadn’t even noticed it thanks to the incorporation of the tapestry into it’s woodwork.   
  
  
  
“Do you know anything about this?” Harry asked, but Draco shook his head as he followed him closely as he reached for the ornate doorhandle. With his heartrate speeding a little in anticipation, Harry turned the knob, pushing it open. He had no idea when Narcissa had had the chance to do this, magic or no magic. He felt Draco’s heat beside him and his hand reached out to caress the blond’s hipbone distractedly as his wide, emerald eyes scanned the room.  
  
  
  
“Your mother made us a nursery?” He asked, without needing an answer, it was perfectly obvious what it was as he stared at the new room. “Now we know what she meant by ‘all of you’, hmm?”  
  
  
  
“Yeah, this is just…” Draco too, was a little overwhelmed and lost for words. The room was hung with beautiful white drapes, pure and clean, blankets laid aside and an ornate cot with a richly embroidered canopy sat in the corner. The walls had a beautiful pink border, which had been enchanted with magical stars that flickered softly. “This is amazing,” Draco murmured. His mother really was such a brilliant witch.  
  
  
  
They both moved further inside and Draco advanced then on Harry, his hands sliding to his stomach while his lips leant in for a swift kiss.   
  
  
  
“I wonder if I ever had a nursery like this,” Harry wondered aloud, smiling when he saw the blond's amusement. “Well not exactly like this,” Harry declared, meaning, not pink and princessy. “I just find it…it feels like your mother is trying to do the work of four grandparents to make up for the others not being here.”  
  
  
  
His voice fell for a moment as he thought of her, not for the first time in the last few weeks. He wondered just exactly how his mother had handled this (having never heard any amusing horror stories about when she was pregnant with him like most children had). _I wonder how she and dad would have reacted to finding out their son got up the duff, by a Malfoy no less,_ he thought with a distant smile. Enjoying the warmth of Draco’s hand on his belly a moment longer, he crossed the room to investigate the shelf that ran the length of the room and the hundreds of teddy bears and stuffed toys lined it.  
  
  
  
“These were yours when you were little,” Harry noted, seeing that some were worse for wear. He couldn't help but smile that Narcissa thought to give their daughter some of Draco’s things. “I like that.”  
  
  
  
Draco felt his cheeks heat up at that statement. It was a little embarassing when he said it like that. “Yeah, they are,”  He replied, noticing some of his familiar items. He couldn't believe she had kept them. He was a grown man now for goodness sake…  
  
  
  
“How embarrassing,” Draco blushed, causing Harry to turn to him with a slight smile and a laugh. Draco cleared his throat. “Well, I suppose you had better get dressed,” Draco announced, reminding Harry that he had infact been so excited he hadn't bothered with clothes and was still in his pyjamas.  
  
  
  
Harry agreed hastily, trying to shrug off his embarrassment at running around in his pyjamas – but that was what christmas was about, he supposed. Seeing the presents the Weasleys had given them at the baby shower sitting on the changing table, Harry ran his fingers over the crisp white blanket that lay neatly on the top. He looked thoughtful. This was what he had dreamt of, always. A family. With one final glance at the nursery, he reluctantly left the room with Draco.  
  
  
  
It was hard to choose his attire nowadays. He had always been a bit on the scrawny side and that meant that his bump was fast making his clothes obsolete. “Blimey, I'm getting big,” Harry said, frowning at his reflection as he pulled on one of his larger shirts, the buttons straining over his belly as he did them up. He could see Draco watching his reflection as he always did and smiled at him, finding that so easy to do recently.  
  
  
  
Hermione wasn't joking when she said the second trimester was the easiest, he felt perfectly normal, the only tell being his swelling tummy (and shrinking clothes) and the occasional movement inside. “You're coming with me to the Weasleys christmas lunch aren't you?” He asked hopefully, “I'm sure Mrs Weasley will have a present for you.”  
  
  
  
“Hmm, yeah,” Draco agreed, though he had previously said about how uncomfortable he felt being there. “We will have to make sure we don't boink in their bathroom this time though, they will never let us back.” Harry laughed at him then, and he realised, he was laughing to.   
  
  
  
Draco walked up behind Harry then, wrapping his arms around him and rubbing his hands over his stomach once more whilst staring at their image in the mirror. “You really are getting fat now, aren't you?”  
  
  
  
Harry scowled at their reflections, Draco wrapped around him with that smug grin. “This is your fault you know,” Harry growled, “Your swimmers are the ones that did this to me, I didn’t have an accident with the turkey baister!” He turned his face away when Draco went to bring their lips together, his kiss falling on Harry’s neck instead. Harry felt him chuckle against his skin before nipping gently.   
  
  
  
“No wonder you have a husband and not a wife,” Harry murmured, pouting. “You know what the rule is, right? You’re supposed to say _‘you’re not fat darling you’re beautiful’_ or something like that.” He felt embarrassment suffuse his cheeks with colour as he realised he had just asked Draco to complement him and turned his face even further away. Those pale fingers tucked his runaway locks behind his ear, and he could not stop his breath from hitching as he felt Draco’s chuckle tease it.  
  
  
  
“I don't need to tell you those things, you already know that I think you're shit hot,” Draco chuckled, causing Harry to squirm awkwardly. “I wouldn't have stuck my cock in you to begin with if I thought you were a mountain troll, now would I?”  
  
  
  
Harry didn't know whether to be embarrassed or annoyed at Draco’s insensitivity and shallowness. Draco turned Harry to him then, joking aside, to capture his lips. “You're beautiful,” He said placing their lips together so tenderly he felt Harry’s breath catch in his throat. He grinned devilishly as he drew back to add, “Very beautiful, _Darling_.”  
  
  
  
“You know, you're a really shallow man,” Harry started, flushing darkly.   
  
  
  
“Because I said I'd have to be attracted to you?” Draco asked with an air of innocence. Harry nodded. “Well, yeah,” Draco chuckled. “You're not perfect, I mean, you're scrawny and you have glasses, you were a bit on the skinny side but I can work with that… What I mean is, I don't sleep with just anyone, you know, you have to be of some quality. Though admittedly, some of the _ladies_ I’ve been with have been a bit worse for wear…”  
  
  
  
Harry cringed at the memory of Draco’s whores, a burning swell of jealousy sweeping up his throat like bile. He turned in Draco’s arms then, his hand sweeping up to caress his shoulder, earning a pleasurable shudder from him. He smirked greedily, running his palm the length of the blond’s arm until he came to his left hand, where he rubbing his ring finger pointedly.  
  
  
  
“You’re mine,” Harry growled, but a hairsbreadth from his lips, “You’re my husband. You’re all mine, aren’t you _, Sweetheart_?” He mimicked the use of a pet name, not letting Draco see that he had _enjoyed_ Draco’s flattery.   
  
  
  
Draco chuckled against those lips. “Bloody hell, I love it when you're jealous,” He groaned, making sure Harry was well aware he could see right through him. “The fire in your eyes…makes me want you right now,” Draco purred, leaning in to inhale the musky scent at Harry’s throat. He wanted nothing more than to just fall into him. But he had Harry to please as well as himself today…  
  
  
  
“I suppose we had better get ready to go to the Weasleys, then?” His hands grazed Harry’s hips, pulling him in closer.  
  
  
  
“You just want presents,” Harry said with a smirk, seeing a pile of non-descript (but likely expensive) opened gifts that Draco had obviously gotten to earlier. He leant into the embrace willingly, Draco’s palms running over his back gently. “Or perhaps you just want to get there and back so you can indulge me with your _other gift_?” Harry said devilishly, but Draco just smiled mysteriously, urging him into dressing quicker.  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
The snow floated down from the sky above, dusting Harry’s hair and cloak as he and Draco made their way through the garden gate and towards the Weasley’s front door. He reached his cold hand out to the falling snow, catching the flakes with a small, contented smile. He could feel Draco watching him too. “I love Christmas,” he said again, glancing back at him, he felt like a small child on this one day out of the year, the child that never got to have these things, these people that cherished him.  
  
  
  
On reaching the front door, Harry paused mid-knock as he felt Draco’s hand in his hair, brushing the snow from it tenderly. “Thanks,” Harry stammered, lingering there, about to say more but the door flying open cut his speech short. The typical Mrs Weasley greeting squashed the air from his lungs as she pulled him into a tight embrace, before drawing back to study him.   
  
  
  
“Bit flushed today,” she said kindly, patting his cheeks before glancing down to his stomach. “How is she doing? Do you have a name for her yet?” She turned her warm, motherly smile on Draco this time, welcoming him more subtly.   
  
  
  
“We haven't named her yet,” Draco said. They had been too busy with everything else to even think about names. They stepped in past Mrs Weasley, into the warm heart of the burrow. Ron was rushing around with Hugo and a magical toy that was flying mid-air, with George making as if he were trying to snatch it. Ginny and Hermione were sat on the settee chatting, while Bill and Fleur were in the kitchen with Mr Weasley and Charlie.  
  
  
  
Everything inside the Weasley house was always so warm, welcoming, like the crackling flames of a fire after a long, cold day.  
  
  
  
Ron was the first to turn and see Harry walk in through the door.  
  
  
  
“Merry Christmas, mate!” The red-head cheered, thrusting a few parcels into his arms, before glancing to Draco, “You have one too, Malfoy.”  
  
  
  
Harry smiled as he watched Draco hesitate, as if deciding on whether or not to refuse, but eventually, the blond took the madly wrapped gift. “Merry Christmas, Ron,” Harry said, beaming, setting his presents on the comfy old couch before crossing the room to give the seasons greetings to the other Weasleys, already seeing the toy firebolt he’d bought for Hugo whizzing around the room.  
  
  
  
This left Draco standing there, watching him, Ron’s gaze darting between the two thoughtfully. “He looks happy,” Ron began carefully, drawing Draco’s attention to him. “He really loves Christmas, the whole ‘family’ feeling I reckon – the Dursleys were pretty shitty to him.” He paused to consider the smile on Harry’s face as he entertained the remaining twin with his joke-shop gift he’d given him. There was no holding back, no reluctance in that happiness – nothing missing.  
  
  
  
“You’ve given him a really amazing gift,” Ron said quietly.  
  
  
  
“I haven’t given him my present yet,” Draco retorted stiffly.  
  
  
  
Ron frowned. “I didn’t mean the kind you wrap up,” he said, staring at Draco incredulously for a moment before gesturing to the gift still in Draco’s hand. “I can tell by the shape, it’s a Weasley jumper,” he said, “Mum makes all the family one every year. Harry has hundreds but he’s always dead chuffed about every one he gets.”  
  
  
  
Draco stood there, a little shocked. He wasn't sure how to take it, that he had been made such a thoughtful gift by Ronald Weasley’s mother. By the family he’d always mocked and ridiculed at every chance as a boy. But he smiled nevertheless, he couldn’t help it. “Thank you,” He said carefully, placing the unopened package aside. “You're right, he really does look happy, doesn't he?” Draco agreed then, watching harry intently, so intensely that he hadn't noticed Ron stop and consider his expression. An expression that told Ron everything he needed to know.  
  
  
  
“You really love him, don't you, everything else aside?” Ron asked.   
  
  
  
The blond’s head snapped round so quickly it gave a horrid _‘crunch’_ sound, his eyes careful, cautious. But they glistened treacherously, giving Ron his answer as he slowly tipped his head a little. “I care about him, I won't deny that…”   
  
  
  
“Why is it that you Malfoys make everything so difficult? Do you really find it that hard to admit you love him?”  
  
  
  
Draco found himself frozen to the spot once more, as Ron Weasley shook his head in frustration and moved away to advance toward Harry. Draco chewed his lip thoughfully. For once, the Weasel had a point…  
  
  
  
As Ron had predicted, one of Harry’s packages was a Weasley jumper, and as anticipated, he pulled it on hastily, the green fabric stretching over his belly. Hugo gave him a confused look, not really understanding why the bump was there most likely, but the child said nothing, turning back to his toys. Harry’s other presents were filled with mixtures of Mrs Weasley’s cakes and sweets, things for the baby and as usual, Hermione’s present was practicality over anything else, and he saw Draco smirk knowingly as he unwrapped the pile of dark, soft-fabric.  
  
  
  
“Well, I suppose they’ll fit,” Harry grumbled reckoning the black trousers would fit the bump better, but scowling at the thought of Hermione sneaking him _maternity wear._  
  
  
  
They moved toward the magically extended table at last, the warm wood lost beneath the feast Mrs Weasley had laid out. Harry felt his stomach growl and was grateful for the excuse that he’d be eating for two for once. He hung back as they approached the table, waiting for Draco who looked to have only just escaped the rapt attention of Mr Weasley. He smirked as Draco reached him.   
  
  
  
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to leave you,” He apologised instantly, looking down to where Draco’s arms hung at his sides, before taking one of those hands in his, not entirely sure where the boundaries of affection were in front of others. “What did Mr Weasley talk to you about?”  
  
  
  
“Nothing overly interesting,” Draco stated, moving to sit around the table next to Harry. Under the table Draco slid his hand over Harry’s knee, causing his back to straighten a little. Harry didn't trust that hand at dinner tables, even now. But it seemed Draco was quite content with just resting it there, for means of connection, Harry thought. And no one seemed to notice in any case with such a feast before them.  
  
  
  
“And we’re actually supposed to have Christmas dinner with your mother later,” Harry chuckled. “I'll have no room left!”  
  
  
  
Hermione leant across then, joining the conversation. “Oh, so Draco is taking you out for dinner tonight then?” She asked, intrigued.   
  
  
  
“Uh. No,” Draco corrected. “We’re…”   
  
  
  
Harry interupted. Saving him. “We’re having a meal with his mother. With Snape too.”   
  
  
  
“Seems like an odd group,” Ron announced. “And what about your dad,” he prodded, “What’s–?”   
  
  
  
“He is away on a business trip,” Draco said, cutting across him with stern eyes. Ron's tone wavered at Draco’s words then. He seemed awfully uptight at the mere mention of his father, Ron thought and couldn’t help but grumble under his breath.   
  
  
  
“ _I think he just doesn’t like me you know_ ,” he mumbled, referring to Draco.  
  
  
  
Harry looked between his best friends and his husband, thinking that they were all trying, so hard, and for him. He smiled distantly as he started to pile roast chicken slices onto his plate. “He doesn’t dislike you,” Harry corrected, glancing to Draco fondly, and feeling the blond’s hand caress his knee in response. “He’s just slytherin through and through,” Harry laughed, his belly rumbling at the sight of Mrs Weasleys mouth-watering cooking. “He’s having a dinner with you just to please me, isn’t he? You should cut him some slack,” Harry whispered, so that only those closest could hear.   
  
  
  
“Come on everyone,” Mrs Weasley chimed in, “We don’t stand on ceremony here.” It never ceased to make Harry smile that the Weasley boys seemed to practically pounce on their plates, leaving Hermione, Fleur, Ginny and Mrs Weasley to frown at them. Harry snorted into his cup of juice, (which replaced the glass of champagne that everyone but he and Hugo had). He looked around at everyone, a warm feeling in his belly. Turning to Draco, he saw the man watching him out of the corner of his eye as he ate.  
  
  
  
“Are you alright?” Harry asked, wondering if this was suffocating for Draco – _all_ of the Weasleys gathered round the table. “Thanks for doing this for me,” he said a little more quietly, hesitating for a moment, before sliding his own hand under the table and petting Draco’s thigh gingerly.   
  
  
  
Draco jumped in reaction to that hand, but gave a small, sincere smile regardless, nodding. Draco looked down at the large plate set in front of him, it was so full, bursting with home-made delicacies. He had no idea what some of this food even was. Living a life of luxury with nothing but the _‘best,’_ he wasn’t privy to such treats. How could he know?  
  
  
  
“Um, what’s this?” Draco asked, pointing to a thick, juicy pastry. Everyone’s eyes flew to him.  
  
  
  
“You've never eaten a Magic Variety roll before?” Ginny asked abruptly, watching as Draco shook his head.   
  
  
  
“What?”  
  
  
  
“A Variety roll is always a surprise, you never know what the filling will be,” Hermione chattered enthusiastically. “Sort of like a Berty Bott’s Every Flavour Bean. Sometimes they’re chicken, sometimes sausage; they have a variety of different flavours!”   
  
  
  
Hesitantly, Draco placed the roll back down; he preferred to know what he was eating. Appearances were important. He wasn't about to take a bite and make a fool of himself spitting it out again. “I think I'll leave it,” he said.  
  
  
  
Realising he should have suspected that Draco in his proper upbringing would never have had such things, Harry reached for the rejected pastry roll, drawing Draco’s eyes to his mouth. He bit off a corner, before holding it back out to him. “It’s spicy chicken,” Harry said through his mouthful, offering the rest to Draco’s lips. “You’ll like it.” Naïve in his affection, Harry couldn’t feel the gazes of every Weasley at that table on him in that moment, but Draco did and he smirked, before leaning forward. Harry had expected him to take the pastry from his hand, but instead, those pale lips simply inclined to eat it straight from his hand. For some reason Harry flushed…  
  
  
  
“Oh Merlin.” Ron’s declaration broke the silence and Harry, with still stunned, wide eyes looked to him along with everyone else, his hand frozen where it was involuntarily feeding his husband. “My mate’s definitely a nancy,” Ron laughed.  
  
  
  
Harry’s flush darkened, and his head snapped back to Draco as he felt the blond’s tongue skim his fingers as he ate the rest. He quickly drew his hand back in embarrassment, but Draco was still smiling, almost triumphantly.   
  
  
  
“Hmm,” he hissed. Hermione coughed, giving Harry a look. Though that little trick was barely his, Draco’s fault?! Draco moved his hand further up Harry’s thigh then, making his husband’s leg spasm suddenly, slamming up into the table and knocking his pumpkin juice to the floor.   
  
  
  
“Harry?” Hermione gasped, startled.  
  
  
  
“Nevermind that, dear,” Molly Weasley chimed in, summoning another glass for him.   
  
  
  
Harry flushed violently with embarrassment and looked to the fallen glass, hurrying to clear it. “S-Sorry,” he apologised. “Thought I – I saw a moth.”  
  
  
  
“A moth?” Draco repeated cheekily, grinning at him. The bastard. “Harry, you're scared of moths?”  
  
  
  
“It was huge,” Harry insisted sheepishly, hiding his face under the table as he picked up the magically repaired glass and set it back on the tabletop. “And Ron is scared of spiders anyway,” he protested. He shot Draco a reproachful glance as he settled back in his seat, only to feel the blond caress the side of his stomach with his knuckles. A hard thump under Draco’s fingers made Harry hiss through his teeth. “Your daughter is spiteful,” Harry growled out, “I hope she kicks you in the back tonight…”  
  
  
  
A snort of laughter caught his attention and Harry looked up to see Hermione chuckling into her goblet, while the other Weasleys were watching him, each with a different question on their lips it seemed. _They aren’t quite at ease seeing mine and Draco’s relationship this comfortable, this effortless,_ Harry realised. They didn’t know about the only real threat to them right now…  
  
  
  
Draco smiled, returning to his meal unruffled. After being caught with his husband’s cock in his mouth in the Weasley’s bathroom, nothing could embarrass him. Not anything like this anyway, only amuse him, especially when Harry got so flustered. “Don't worry,” Draco assured them. “I am sure you’ll get used to seeing how relaxed Harry is around me.”  
  
  
  
None of them quite knew how to take that.  
  
  
  
Harry flinched at the thought of the Weasleys catching them in debauched happenings like Narcissa and Snape had. He had an inkling that Ron would never be able to face him again if he saw him willingly trussed up like a virgin sacrifice and begging for it.  
  
  
  
“So how did you react to the idea of having a daughter, Draco?” Molly Weasley asked, involving him in conversation. “I would imagine your parents would have wanted a boy to carry on the family name.”  
  
  
  
“A girl can do that just as well,” Draco replied, tucking roast potato into his mouth. “I couldn’t care less whether it’s a boy or a girl, if it’s a baby and it’s ours and it’s healthy, why should it matter?”   
  
  
  
Harry smiled at Draco fleetingly, before turning back to his feed. Along the table, Mr and Mrs Weasley echoed that smile.   
  
  
  
“A fine point, Dear,” Mrs Weasley said, but still beaming, her warm eyes studying Draco and Harry meticulously. Harry didn’t look up again just yet, however. He already knew that his make-shift parents were testing Draco in their own way, and he already knew that Draco had given the right answer…  
  
  
  
“My Me ‘Arry,” Fleur declared from his side, having been quiet up until then – until she saw Harry reach across to help himself to some turkey. He froze when Fleur grabbed his hand, pulling it to her with a look of awe crossing her features. “Your wedding ring – it ‘iz amazing, no?”   
  
  
  
Harry flushed darkly, determindedly looking at her and not Draco. Gently, he tugged his hand back, not liking the attention, especially on the more extravagant of Draco’s gifts. “It’s pretty decent,” he murmured with a shrug.  
  
  
  
Fleur’s eyes were wide. “It ‘iz perfect! An’ from such rare sources – the Malfoy name opens doors, no?”  
  
  
  
Harry moved his lips soundlessly for a moment. He didn’t know what to say. He never boasted about possessions, he’d never felt the need to and besides which, it always made Ron so…  
  
  
  
He glanced over at Ron briefly, hoping he wasn’t going to overreact. But Fleur wasn’t dropping the subject, not seeing the potential harm. “It ‘iz ‘ighly polished dragon scales and platinum,” she explained, “Very rare, an’ ‘ze dragon scales, ‘zey ‘ave very unique properties when used for wedding bands.” She glanced over to Draco thoughtfully. “‘E must care for you greatly if ‘e went to so much trouble to find something like ‘zis. In an emergency, ‘ze magic of ‘zese things ‘ave been known to ‘elp ‘zeir owners.”  
  
  
  
“Really?” Harry asked, but only so he didn’t seem rude. He was keeping his head down, trying his best not to show how pleased with this revelation it was. He knew Draco had loved him for a long time, but the fact that _proof of that_ had been sitting on his finger for months now. _He has been protecting me?_ Harry wondered. Fleur said that it was hard to acquire, Draco surely wouldn’t have gone through that for sheer _fashion?_  
  
  
  
“Yeah, it's not such a big deal,” Draco said dissmissively. But Fleur was quick to reply.  
  
  
  
“‘E is being modest,” she insisted, and Draco lowered his head with a thoughtful smile. An embarrassed smile. An expression he had only just thought he’d never wear in front of Harry’s friends. “It wasn't that much of a–”   
  
  
  
“Is Draco flippin’ Malfoy _actually_ blushing?” Ron asked in utter surprise. He snorted when Draco didn't answer him right away, the blond looking sideways to Harry instead.  
  
  
  
“I…I don't like being made a fuss off,” Draco argued. But he felt that they were all looking through him now. “I just… I need to use your toilet,” he said at last, dismissing himself from the table and the awkward situation.   
  
  
  
“Don’t make fun of him too much,” Harry advised, “It makes him happy to give me things.”  
  
  
  
Ron scoffed at that. “And I suppose that just suits you fine, doesn’t it?” He mumbled. “What happened to you? You _never_ liked being spoiled–”  
  
  
  
“I still don’t. He doesn’t spoil me, his gifts are perfectly–” But his words were cut short by the rattling knocking that sounded from beyond the room. Harry frowned, looking to Mr Weasley.   
  
  
  
“It’s the front door,” Arthur explained with a smile, and Harry just realised that he had never heard anyone knock at the Weasleys front door before. “Get it for us Bill, would you?” Arthur asked. Bill nodded, rising from the table and disappearing from sight. He returned quickly though, gesturing to Harry. “It’s for Harry,” he said and Harry frowned, wondering who it was. The only other people who weren’t here were Teddy and Andromeda and they were spending the Christmas alone since little Teddy wasn’t too well. He had sent Teddy’s presents to him and promised to visit in the New Year, but had they changed their mind about popping in?  
  
  
  
Harry winced suddenly, another sharp kick from his daughter making him jump. She didn’t usually hit so hard. “Calm down you,” Harry told her, patting the side her rogue foot was on as he made for the front door. Another hard thump and that one made him stop and lean against the wall for a moment. That nearly knocked the wind out of him!  
  
  
  
“That one hurt,” he growled, “calm down.” It didn’t occur to him that whilst she may very well was able to hear, she could not understand and he rubbed his belly in a slow circle as he reached for the handle, wondering what had her so unsettled. _Maybe she didn’t like the mint sauce?_ He wondered, but as he pulled the door open, he realised that it had nothing to do with his chicken dressings.  
  
  
  
Standing in the Weasley’s doorway, silhouetted against the pale moonlight and the snow-covered wilderness, was Lucius Malfoy. With his wand lying in his coat pocket in the lounge Harry threw his weight into the door, trying to slam it shut. Lucius’ cane flew out, blocking it’s path and dragging Harry by his collar out into the snow. Harry hissed as the icy, snow-covered ground bit through the flimsy garments he wore the wall he was pressed into freezing and unforgiving. His teeth chattered.  
  
  
  
“Get _off_ me!” Harry snarled, his fingers clawing at Lucius’ arms that held him. “You bastard! You _rapist_! You spiteful prick get away from me!” Suddenly, Lucius, raised his fist, the bone colliding nastily across Harry’s cheek with a crack! Harry’s neck snapped to the side and he cried out once more before he fell silent – stunned with pain for a moment.  
  
  
  
With a low chuckle in the cold winter’s air, Lucius leant in so that his hot breath dusted Harry’s ice-cold, throbbing cheek, the spiteful head of his cane dragging in mock-affection along Harry’s stomach. “I merely come to wish my granddaughter Merry Christmas,” he purred and Harry flinched, his eyes watering from the pain in his face.  
  
  
  
“All the merrier if you were dead and gone you self-righteous _lunatic_ ,” Harry hissed, not daring to raise his voice again with that diamond-encrusted weapon hovering an inch above his daughter, with only his skin to separate them…  
  
  
  
“Get off him!” Draco snarled, bolting through the kitchen and flying out into the snow. Draco’s stormy eyes darted between Harry and his father as he shoved himself between the man and his husband. The Weasleys gathered at the door now, mildy confused, but watched regardless as Draco took his father by the sleve and tugged him away from the house for a private conversation.  
  
  
  
“Go inside!” Draco snapped, but Harry stood there, worried, unmoving. “GO INSIDE!” Draco screamed this time, alarming the Weasleys who hovered around Harry and steered the chosen one inside quickly. Slowly the door closed behind them and Harry felt his gut sink. He couldn't leave him out there alone!  
  
  
  
  
  
“What did you come here for?” Draco asked abruptly. His father surveyed their surroundings with utter distaste.  
  
  
  
“I hate what you've turned into, Draco. You ungrateful brat. All the effort, all the time I wasted to shape you and now you are… You are eating _Christmas Lunch_ with those _blood-traitors_?!”  
  
  
  
Lucius clucked his tongue with disdain, his gloved fingers clenching around the shaft of his cane as he brought it up, resting the long, thin length against Draco’s neck, forcing him to look at him. “Have you forgotten everything I have taught you, everything I taught you to value and respect, to _show_? Yes, you have forgotten, and only after a few short months under Harry Potter’s thumb?” He gave a cruel laugh, sneering at the Weasley abode.  
  
  
  
“What type of father would I be if I did not eradicate your most tragic of mistakes? If I did not banish the one thing that will make you a laughing stock in front of the Wizarding world?” His voice was low and menacing, and he stared at the house with vicious intent. “One spell, Draco,” He breathed, “One spell, and I can send that house up in a puff of smoke… You will be free…” The arc of the snake’s head on his cane caught Draco’s neck and he reeled him in closer. “Free of mistakes. Perfect, my son…”  
  
  
  
“The only mistake in my life, is not telling you where to stick it!” Draco spat with the upmost venom. He didn't know where it came from, but something inside had just about had enough. He couldn't take it anymore, he didn't want to feel scared anymore, on edge, waiting for his father to slither out of the shadows. He raised his wand swiftly, jabbing it into his father's neck. “If you even _think_ about harming them, I won't think twice about killing you,” Draco warned him. He glared directly at his father then, for the first time since he was a small child.  
  
  
  
Lucius surged forwards, the wood of his son’s wand pressing spitefully into his throat. He no longer towered over his son with quite the same height but he was still tall enough to glare down at him intimidatingly. His jaw tightened with loathing for Harry Potter when he didn’t even see his son flinch. Quite the contrary, his once perfect child raised his chin in defiance – the exact image of that infuriating Potter boy…  
  
  
  
“ _Kill me_?” Lucius hissed with dark amusement. “You couldn’t kill Albus Dumbledore, you couldn’t kill your foolish muggle studies teacher – you couldn’t kill anything but a silly little bird and even _then_ you sobbed like an infant!” He watched Draco’s eyes narrow with a barely concealed wince, but otherwise, the boy remained unfazed.   
  
  
  
“You couldn’t even kill a nonsensical, inert _mistake_ growing in your _husband’s_ belly when I ordered you to – not even knowing it would ruin you,” Lucius reminded him, his eyes menacingly dark. “You are a useless boy. Since you learnt to _talk_ I’ve done nothing but rectify your mistakes. Even a father’s love can only stretch so far…” He trailed off, studying his son pensively for a moment.   
  
  
  
Behind Draco, he saw the door open soundlessly, (where Draco was blind to it) saw Potter standing in the doorway, his wand clasped tightly in his hand. Lucius smirked wickedly. “Or is it that now you have your pretty prize, now that you’ve prised apart the _Chosen One’s_ virginal, quivering thighs, your father does not matter to you? Your family name, your untainted bloodline, forgotten for a scrawny, ill-tempered _boy_?”   
  
  
  
“What kind of a fool do you take me for? You can't manipulate me and that makes you angry. I may have faults, but then so do you! You sold my body to your fellow death eaters, to Voldemort, you _raped_ me, and for what? For my benefit? For discipline? You got off on it didn't you, on _hurting_ me! You sick bastard!” Draco screeched, still unaware of Harry’s presence behind him. But he couldn't stop himself. His heart was racing, all the pain and all of the hurt had just been smothered and buried inside for too long. He couldn't control it, or pretend it hadn’t happened, not anymore.   
  
  
  
“You don’t…you don’t even believe…cannot see that you’re _wrong_ even, can you?” Draco snarled, shaking his head in disbelief. “I only had myself to worry about before. I had to play the puppet to survive. You pulled on my strings whenever it suited you, but not anymore. Your _puppet_ has taken control back, father. I’ve taken my life back, and I would throw it away in an instant for Harry, more than I would ever do for you.”  
  
  
  
A moment passed and Draco stared rigidly into his father’s compassionless gaze. “You're right,” he continued, “I was afraid. I didn't want to kill anyone, I was never that person. I was just born to the wrong father and the hate surging through me for you right now, I have never felt it for another being. That is why I couldn’t take a life before.”  
  
  
  
Draco realised then, that he had basically just admitted he wanted his own father dead. Choking hard on his own spittle, he flinched as he felt his father’s wand against his own throat. “Go on, _kill me_!” Draco dared him. “Well? Isn't it what you want, to put me in line, _shape_ me up?”  
  
  
  
“Do not mock me, boy!” Lucious snapped.   
  
  
  
“NO! I won't stop! I’ll never stop! So kill me, go on, kill me now! I'm not afraid anymore!” The was a silence between them then and Draco swatted the offending wand away from his neck, finishing with a cold smile. “See, you can't, because the only thing you could do to touch me was manipulating me. And you can't do that anymore, can you? Not now that I've worked you out.”  
  
  
  
“Draco?”  
  
  
  
Both men turned to see Harry drawing closer. He came to a stop at Draco’s side, regardless of the bitter cold, his wand and eyes trained on Lucius warily. “Draco–”  
  
  
  
“ _Draco_ would do a lot better if you didn’t cling to him like a whimpering _woman_ ,” Lucius snarled at Harry, who merely glared back.  
  
  
  
“A lot better,” Harry repeated dryly, “a lot better like licking Voldemort’s arse, the way you did? You nearly got your family killed or worse because you were such a pathetic coward, and now, Draco has dismissed you, _so leave_.”  
  
  
  
Lucius gave a mixed expression, a cross between a smirk and a sneer. “Perhaps you have forgotten your place in this family, Draco–”  
  
  
  
“Perhaps you have forgotten,” Harry interjected, feeling Draco tremble with rage and cold beside him. “That when you went to Azkaban for that fiasco in the Department of Mysteries, you forfeited _your place_ in this _family_. Draco is the head of the family, therefore you listen, you _leave_ when he asks you to!”  
  
  
  
“You think I’ll let you and your bastard child control him like this?” Lucius snarled, “There are ways, ways to discredit you, to drive you mad just by mere rumour – I will ruin you if that’s what it takes to restore my son to what he was…”  
  
  
  
Harry opened his mouth to spit out a retort, but Draco beat him to it.  
  
  
  
“Don't you get it yet?” Draco snapped. “I'm not _being_ controlled. For once! I _love_ him and I _want_ him and our daughter!” Draco choked as those words trembled over his lips. Harry seemed in a state of shock beside him, while the wealeys watched in the doorway, shocked themselves at Draco’s confession. “Just leave,” Draco demanded coldly.  
  
  
  
Lucius Malfoy turned his nose up at their audience then. “We will talk again, _Draco_ ,” he said simply, turning away from them.  
  
  
  
 _I feel sorry for my mother,for falling in love with a man like this,_ Draco thought as he watched Lucius vanish away. He may have experienced pain and betrayal so deep it made his bones ache, but when he thought of his mother, of Harry and Snape he was grateful for what he _did_ have and the way his life had turned out despite his past.  
  
  
  
He supposed everything happened for a reason, and had it not been for those terrible things with his father and Voldemort, he might not be standing beside Harry right now. He laughed softly as he turned to Harry and for the first time with an audience, he pulled Harry forwards and placed a kiss on his lips. The heat of their combined breath filled him with warmth and he felt his smile right down to his toes as his hands travelled Harry’s back affectionately. Nothing mattered anymore. Except this! Why had it taken so long to realise that?!   
  
  
  
“This will be the best christmas ever,” Draco promised quietly.   
  
  
  
“The best,” Harry agreed with a flush, ducking his head only to have the following kiss collide with his cheek instead of his mouth. Then Draco lead him out of the snow and back into the Weasley’s living room.  
  
  
  
“I’m sorry, Harry,” Bill leapt in as soon as the door was closed. “I didn’t know he was dodgy, he’s Draco’s dad, I thought that he just wanted–”  
  
  
  
“It’s alright,” Harry silenced him, sliding his hand into Draco’s to comfort himself, to keep the closeness he found himself wanting so badly. “We didn’t let you know he was trouble, it’s fine.”  
  
  
  
Around them, Harry noticed the Weasleys staring at him and Draco, and where their hands interlocked. It was Ron who broke the silence first. “You stuck up for Harry,” Ron said simply, looking at Draco. “Even when it pissed ‘daddy’ off?”  
  
Harry felt Draco tense beside him, but the blond said nothing.  
  
“You admitted that you loved him even though everyone was listening?” Ron pressed.   
  
  
  
Harry’s flush darkened. “Enough, Ron, you pillock – I am right here you know!” Harry declared.   
  
  
  
Draco shrugged. “Yeah, I – I s’pose I did,” He confimed, watching Ron grin. “Don't s’pose you have a problem with that as well now?” Draco asked darkly. Ron shook his head. Draco walked through the crowd of Weasleys then, leading Harry back to the lounge and seating them both on the tatty old settee.  
  
  
  
“I never thought Draco Malfoy would do _that_ ,” Ginny said. Draco only shrugged again, feeling a little awkward at the way their gazes had followed them. What could he say?,He loved Harry, he knew this and with everything he had. Surely these people could see that?  
  
  
  
“Do you really think I’d let myself be pushed into a marriage that part of me didn't want?”  
  
  
  
“Well Harry was!” Ron retorted.  
  
  
  
“And I am glad I was,” Harry interjected without pause. He was in no two minds about it now, this is where he belonged – this was who he belonged to! _And I’ll die without him,_ his mind supplied. “I love you all, but you had your own lives after the war, I didn’t have anything independent of you. I never had lovers or anything that inspired me, anyone that could…” His voice broke and he looked down to where his fingers were still wrapped around Draco’s, _knowing_ how pathetic the next words would sound…  
  
  
  
“…Could love me, for me, not for what I was. I’ve got my own family now, and I may have hated the idea of being forced to marry Draco at first, I may have loathed the beginnings of it, but the end justifies the means. I’m happy now. Nothing in my life has ever been simple, why should my marriage be?”  
  
  
  
Looking around at one and other in unison Harry received a mixed batch of expressions from his second family, and then an arm drew up around his shoulder and pulled him close. It was worth his embarrassment to be this close to him in front of them at last. “And while I may have not have been completely happy with parts of the marriage,” Draco began, “I don't regret it, not really. I regret the way in which some of the people went about making it happen, but the rest, it's…” He didn't know what else to say. He could hardly admit to the Weasleys that this was what he had dreamt of every night since he was eleven. That his obsession with Harry was so strong it had nearly driven him mad some nights. No. He had his dignity.  
  
  
  
“Of course you do not regret it,” Mrs Weasley chimed in, settling her warm, motherly gaze on them both. “How could you regret finding each other?”  
  
  
  
Harry gave a small nod of gratefulness to her understanding, glad that she was so ready to welcome Draco into the family he loved so much. He’d been so worried about their reaction…  
  
  
  
Slowly, the crowd of red-heads around them dispersed back to the christmas activities, but Mr Weasley remained, coming forward a little closer to them. “I know that you won’t talk to me about it, lads,” He said quietly, for their ears only, “But I can drop a word in Kingsley’s ear, I can make it more difficult for Lucius to…well, you know what he is capable of…” He looked to Draco, offering an uneasy smile. “You are a very brave man, but your father is cunning, I’ve known him longer than you and we all know what he is capable of… But I cannot do anything unless you are both willing to speak with the aurors about him. He needs to be stopped, for good, before you have your minds occupied with other things.” He tipped his head to Harry’s stomach. “You don’t have to decide now, but if you _do_ decide, I can be of use.”  
  
  
  
Harry considered him for a moment while Draco just nodded politely. “I think we need to talk about it,” Draco said, though his pride was tempting him to say _‘no, I don't need your help.’_ Even though he knew he needed every bit of help he could get right now. Rising to his feet, he smiled politely. “Thank you for lunch,” he said as Harry stood clumsily beside him.  
  
  
  
Ron rushed to Harry and pulled him into a 'man' hug and held him there close for a moment. And when he drew back, he offered his hand to Draco, who blankly looked at it, as if it were a foreign object.   
  
  
  
“I’m told it’s accepted in society still as a gentlemanly gesture,” Ron said when Draco didn’t move. The blond met Harry’s eyes before looking back to the hand Weasley offered. Slowly, he took it. Beside him, the tension in Harry’s body seemed to ease. “Yeah,” Ron murmured awkwardly as their hands broke apart, clearing his throat needlessly. “Just er…take care of him and the sprog, alright? Just ‘cause he’s Harry Potter – err, Malfoy doesn’t mean he’s invincible. I think he’s earnt some _lay-back and vegetate_ time.”  
  
  
  
“I’m still here,” Harry grumbled, but only half-heartedly, another softer thump hitting him hard from inside. His brow creased in thought.   
  
  
  
She had felt Lucius’ presence close by, or perhaps sensed his trepidation – either way, she had felt his stress, his anxiety. _I need to relax more,_ he thought, having only recently read about all of the horrid things unborn children could suffer if the ‘male mother’ didn’t rest properly, particularly as his male body suffered more stress than a female one…  
  
  
  
 _I haven’t been taking care of her or myself lately,_ he thought. _I’ve just been behaving as normal, but I can’t now. I can’t just be normal, I have to take it easy. The next three months are the hardest aren’t they?_  
  
  
  
He realised then, that Draco was watching him out of the corner of his eye, as if he, Harry might drop at any moment. Harry frowned, that was overdoing it a little, he was perfectly alright, just a little over-ambitious for someone in the fifth month…  
  
  
  
“Can we go home now? I’m a little tired,” he said, deciding that would be the responsible thing to do and if he just so happened to get Draco alone for the close contact he craved then, well, that was just a bonus. It was only late afternoon, and it already felt like it had been such a long day. And the books said to rest didn’t they?  
  
  
  
“Yeah,” Draco agreed, ushering his husband to the fireplace and thanking the Weasleys on the way through. They also had a dinner to attend tonight with Severus and his mother. He had to be well rested for that himself, let a lone Harry, who needed the rest that much more. Mrs Weasley pulled Harry tightly to her in a warm hug, and Harry smiled contently. Draco graciously nodded to show his appreciation and rightly so. He wasn't about to go sticking himself in family hugs like he felt a part of it. No matter how sweet a family like this was, it still felt particularly awkward for him. For now, at least.  
  
  
  
Soon the sweet chimes of the Weasleys goodbyes were long gone, and Harry and his husband were back in their private sitting room, relaxing before dinner. Draco was perched on the end of the settee, with Harry laying the length of it, his head in Draco’s lap. “Have you enjoyed this christmas so far?” Draco asked, but when he looked down at Harry, he saw those stunning eyes closed in sleep. Draco smiled and carefully slipped out from under his husband, placing a pillow where his lap had been so that Harry didn't wake.   
  
  
  
He had to go and see to Harry’s gift.   
  
  
  
  
  
_~To Be Continued..._


	21. Warmth in Winter

[Twenty-One]  
  
 **Warmth in Winter**  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
By the time Draco had returned, Harry was awake again, eyes shining like emeralds with the ever-changing lights of the tree and Christmas decorations. “Today has been amazing,” Harry admitted, noting that Draco had shut the bathroom door again behind him. “You're making me worry, you know. What exactly have you got me for Christmas?”   
  
  
  
Draco merely smirked and crossed the room to Harry’s side, his husband eyeing him carefully. “If you promise to show me soon I will show you my surprise gift?” He could see Draco considering it, but he wasn't sure he'd win so easily. “You're killing me here with the tension,” he laughed. “You're really going to make me wait until after dinner?”  
  
  
  
“Yeah, you have to wait,” Draco replied, watching him huff slightly as he sank into the chair. “Besides, it's better if you wait,” he added. But Harry didn't seem to agree. “Don't give me that look,” Draco said, noting the frown that had crossed Harry’s features. He moved back towards Harry then and leant down, pressing his lips to his husband’s forehead. “You're such a little brat sometimes.” He grinned at the blush that touched Harry’s cheeks and dipped his head lower down to capture those lips this time.   
  
  
  
“I'm not a baby,” Harry insisted, “And if I am then you're a cradle snatching pervert.” He looked at Draco a moment, before tugging hard on the small of his back, bringing him down so that he knees rested either side of Harry’s on the couch he sat on. “Hmmm? Don't make me wait,” he purred, leaning in to let his lips glide along the blond's collarbone. “You'll like your present I promise?” But he merely felt Draco smirk, before dropping a kiss to his hair and pushing away reluctantly. “I'll let you fondle me under the table?” He offered, hearing Draco give a small laugh and he frowned half-heartedly. He really wanted to know what Draco had got him; it'd probably show up both of his presents…  
  
  
  
Harry got to his feet then, moving over to the box of things they'd received today from the Weasleys. He smirked as he held up Draco’s slytherin green Weasley jumper. “Thanks for making an effort today – even when your…your dad showed up. It meant a lot that you were there, getting along with them. They are important to me,” he gave Draco a smile then, one that Draco seemed to think made it all worth it, for he reciprocated. “I wonder what Sirius and Remus would have thought of us,” he wondered aloud, having thought about them and his parents a lot in the last few months…  
  
  
  
Draco smiled and sat back down beside him. “If you were happy, I'm sure they would have been happy too,” Draco assured him. “Do you want some tea or something?” Draco offered. Harry just looked at him, bewildered. “What?” He asked at Harry’s expression. Harry just laughed and nodded.   
  
  
  
“Yeah, I'll have some tea,” he said. Draco stood then, scurrying back out to get the tea his _wife_ required – he found he quite liked doing things for him himself, as opposed to summoning Eric to do it for him…  
  
  
  
Harry watched him go with a thoughtful twitch of happiness at his lips. How things had changed. He had scoffed at Hermione in the darker days of Voldemort when she had insisted things get darker before it could get light again, but it seemed she was right.  
  
  
  
Draco loved him. He felt an odd tingle in his belly, embarrassed even though no one could see him. He was happy today; it had been the best Christmas ever, topping even his first one at Hogwarts.  
  
  
  
Draco loved him – _oh, Merlin, stop it_! He told his wayward thoughts. Why did he feel this flip in his gut, this onslaught of butterflies? _Draco’s right, you're such a girl,_ he told himself. He had pondered his feeling for Draco for some time. It never became any clearer than the sheer desire to stay, and the misery at the thought of leaving. But he was staying, he was happy. That meant something. The way he felt when he was touched, even just a kiss to his head, it meant something. Didn't it?  
  
  
  
“Here,” Draco said as he returned handing him the hot cup and quickly summoning the nearest side table with his wand for Harry to place it down upon when he was done. “It's nice to have hot drinks on Christmas, hmm?” Draco asked, reaching across for his own cup. He sighed softly then, there was no sense putting it off any longer…  
  
  
  
“Look, Harry, about…about my father, I…I know something has to be done, I just…” Harry placed his hand on his shoulder, comforting him. Draco inhaled shakily, pressing on, “I just don't know how I–”   
  
  
  
He felt a finger press against his lips then, silencing him easily. Harry stared at him, considering his face with those glistening, emerald eyes. Draco’s tongue swept across his suddenly dry lips. “I just…” As he spoke, he felt that finger tap him to silence again. Then suddenly, his hand shot out, seizing the scruff of Harry’s neck and pulling him in close. He _needed_ to be close suddenly.  
  
  
  
Harry pulled his husband tight to his body. “After Christmas,” he said, “Afterwards we'll discuss with Mr Weasley what can be done without too much input from you. The wounds are too close; you don't deserve to be caught up in this. We'll forget about it for now, we'll…” He paused, a light flush dusting his cheeks. “We'll have a quiet few days; we'll…be…be happy. Mr Weasley is a good man, and so is Kingsley. They'll help us,” he promised, caressing Draco’s pristine locks tenderly, before kissing the side of his head. He felt a surge of protectiveness rear it's head. A surge he hadn't felt since the war. “You're mine, Draco Malfoy. Nothing is going to hurt you – or our daughter."  
  
  
  
Draco flushed at the fierceness and passion in Harry’s voice, chuckling in disbelief. “This is so mental…”  
  
  
  
Harry looked at him bewildered. “What’s mental?”  
  
  
  
“I've dreamt of the day you would say I was yours, I…It's like something out of one of my fantasies,” Draco admitted. Harry saw liquid emotion glisten from the corners of Draco’s eyes then. So many years he had wanted this, so many endless nights of dreaming. In the past, he had come to terms with the fact that Harry would never be his; he had been mere background noise in Harry’s life, except when he was awful to him. So to go from that, from being _nothing,_ to this. It was overwhelming.   
  
  
  
“Don't tell me you're getting all nostalgic on me?” Harry asked, feeling a little awkward.  
  
  
  
Draco shrugged. “I never thought I’d hear those words. No matter how much I wanted it, no matter how much I dreamt it. It’s just surreal. You can't…I…I thought I'd never have this. I'm just so–”   
  
  
  
“Bloody lucky,” Harry teased softly, leaning in to rub his forehead over his gently, before dipping to the side to lay a kiss just beneath Draco’s ear. He breathed hotly into the soft shell of the appendage and smiled against him when he felt him shudder. “You’re mine now, Draco Malfoy – all mine, and I have no intention of sharing,” he nipped the fleshy lobe gently, threading his fingers through fine blond locks and tugging. “Did you use to wank off in your bed Mr Malfoy?” He asked huskily, his eyes narrowing with want. “Did you use to play with your adolescent cock whilst thinking of me? Whilst thinking of my little schoolboy arse? Hmm? Tell me…tell me some of the dirtiest things you imagined…”  
  
  
  
Most of the time he was angry with his body nowadays, but he couldn’t fault his ravenous, insatiable sex drive. He _always_ wanted Draco, and it seemed the negative feelings only made him want it more. _It makes Draco powerful, makes him happy,_ he thought, grinning against him like a Cheshire cat as he reached down to fondle his husband through his trousers. “Well? Did you used to touch yourself in your bed thinking about me?” He prompted.  
  
  
  
Draco shuddered at that touch. Of course he did, he couldn't stop himself when he thought of him, even now. It drove him crazy. He would slide his hands down at any chance he had with a moments thought of Harry and himself. When he was alone _and_ when they were together.  
  
  
  
“Y-Yes,” Draco stuttered, falling victim to those lips now brushing hotly over his ear lobe. He felt his lower body arch against that hand, twitch at the touch as Harry hummed in his ear. Draco groaned. “I…I… _fuck_!” Draco gripped Harry’s arm and pinned it sideways, suddenly darting onto the sofa, looming over him. Grey eyes were sharp as he gazed into Harry’s, long flaxen locks dusting those flushed cheeks as he hovered over him. “I touched myself so much over you. You drove me bloody mental! I – _fuck._ I – I need to fuck you… _now_!”  
  
  
  
Harry turned his head away when Draco leant in to kiss him, shoving him back gently. “Patience. And you said that you didn’t want to open your other present. I take it you’ve changed your mind now?” He saw Draco’s confused frown and smiled fleetingly before crawling out from under him and heading for the bedroom. Plucking his wand from his pocket, Harry gestured to Draco. “ _Obscuro_!” He chanted and a thick blindfold appeared over Draco’s eyes. Draco’s hands flew to remove it. Harry’s stopped him. “No, keep it on, and wait for me,” he demanded, his voice husky with desire as he gave his lover a fleeting touch to his cheek before vanishing into the bedroom.  
  
  
  
It seemed like forever Draco waited there. Silence was all that was offered. Once or twice, his he tilted his head to a distant scuffling, but the obscure noise gave him no clues. His cock throbbed painfully in the confines of his trousers and he was just considering taking his clothes off while he waited when a subtle touch to his flushed neck startled him.  
  
  
  
“Hmm, looks like I kept you waiting too long,” Harry’s voice breathed over his covered eyes, his hand massaging Draco’s throat with tormenting tickles. “Your cock is going to burst for me and I haven’t even done anything,” Harry teased, dipping his head so that he could punctuate his words by licking at Draco’s bottom lip – as soon as the blond leant forward to capture a kiss, however, Harry drew back.  
  
  
  
“You look so bloody hot waiting for me,” Harry said, sounding more confident than he felt with Draco not able to see him yet and his hands trailed down to Draco’s wrists, slowly guiding those hot, talented fingers to rest on the backs of his thighs. “Feel me before you see me,” Harry instructed shakily, resting his hands on Draco’s shoulders to steady him as those palms studied his body. He heard a sharp intake of air rush past the blond’s lips when those fingers encountered the lacy skirt that reached just above mid-thigh.  
  
  
  
“Yes,” Harry panted, curling his fists into Draco’s shirt and tipping his head back, pressing his chest forward to feel Draco’s every panting breath through his outfit. “Feel me,” he whispered again, losing his words as those hands palmed his backside hungrily, no doubt basking in the feel of the silky panties he’d put on underneath…  
  
  
  
He flushed darkly, he hadn’t been so sure of this present – but you could barely see the bump in it (and what you could see just made him look _girlier_ , which he _knew_ Draco would like) and it did look pretty. He had got a boner from just _looking_ at it. It felt soft and _fluttered_ against his skin sinfully. _Draco must have debauched me to give me ideas like this_ , he thought dazedly, a small, gasping whimper leaving him as Draco’s hands continued travelling.  
  
  
  
Draco let out a grin at _this Harry,_ the Harry that was confident enough now to do something like this. Merlin, it was making him hard. But amused nevertheless. “And you said when we first married that you would never say I was yours or you were mine, and now you're blindfolding me and all sorts!” Draco teased, though he frowned then as he knew Harry would be wearing a blush he could not see. That eased away as his hand tucked under the line of frills and squeezed Harry’s arse cheeks tightly. _Bloody hell._ He gasped as his fingertips brushed over the silky material, over Harry’s hot skin.  
  
  
  
“Can I take this blindfold off?” He asked, wondering if Harry had finished his scheming.  
  
  
  
Harry considered it for a moment, wondering what Draco would say when he saw him. He flushed furiously, turning his head away and to the side. Draco’s hands pulled him closer, so that Draco’s mouth was gliding over his stomach through the sheer fabric. “You’d better not bloody laugh,” he warned. Draco could either be incredibly aroused or laugh until he got a stitch – and a fist in his face.  
  
  
  
He reached down, keeping his eyes averted and pulled the blindfold off of Draco. He held his breath, waiting…  
  
  
  
Draco’s widened in shock. A beautiful black dress with lacy, white frills, ribbons and little bows of all kinds, was wrapped tightly around his husbands figure. Draco bit down on his lip flustered at the side and unconciously his hands slid along Harry’s thighs. “Holy fuck!” He gasped. With no restraint, he leant forward so his nose was but a hairsbreadth from Harry’s and whispered, “Even stockings and silky panties, Harry?”  
  
  
  
Harry wriggled and squirmed uncomfortably, sending a wicked smile to his husband’s lips. Draco could feel his cock pressing against its restraints and he groaned softly. “I thought I wanted to fuck you before, I want you even more now!”  
  
  
  
Harry kept his gaze turned away, tugging the hem of the dress down over his cock that strained against the silk knickers. “I shaved my legs as well,” he murmured into his chest sheepishly, “You shaved me when you…the night when…” He didn’t think _‘took my virginity’_ would improve his masculinity any, but at least the embarrassment was worth it – it was arousing him like _hell_ and Draco seemed _…more_ than pleased…  
  
  
  
He leant back into the couch, spreading his legs a little, his eyes glistening with arousal as Draco knelt on the floor before him, running his hands greedily over his smooth body, massaging his inner thighs until they shuddered a little further apart. Harry didn’t meet those eyes, just couldn’t – he swore his cheeks would never go back to their normal colour. “Is it…do you like it?” He asked, needing complete reassurance, he still felt a bit silly.  
  
  
  
Draco ducked his head into Harry’s crotch, breathing in the musky smell of sex through the silk panties as his hands held his hips close. “Do you even need to bloody ask?” Draco hissed, seizing Harry’s hand and pressing it over his own erection. “Feel that? Thats my cock, so hard it almost hurts. You did that, my prissy slut,” Draco purred. Harry shuddered at his words and still, he looked away. “Hmm, you know, I love it when you're shy, when you squirm, when you're completely at my mercy. I just want fuck you, make you scream my name,” Draco drawled huskily, watching Harry’s cheeks redden.   
  
  
  
“You look so…so beautiful,” Draco said then, blushing a little himself as he took the entire picture in. “I sort of don't want to take it off but…hmm…” Draco sniggered then, lifting Harry’s legs back until they hung high above his head.   
  
  
  
“Merlin, don’t,” Harry cursed, his eyes clenching shut. “N-Not…not beautiful,” he insisted hazily, spreading his legs wider regardless for Draco’s perusal. His cock jerked underneath the flimsy cloth of his knickers as Draco’s breath skimmed it. He inhaled sharply when Draco flipped the skirt and petticoat over onto his stomach, giving him a view of his erection pressing urgently against his frilly undies – unhindered.   
  
  
  
“I…I love your voice – when you tease me… _Merlin_ – what’s wrong with me, I – shouldn’t – shouldn’t like it so damn much…!”  
  
  
  
“Hmm, and I like that you squirm so much when I talk this low, this _dirty_. Makes me so bloody hard I can't contain myself.” Draco pressed his nose up the ridge of Harry’s backside, dragging it up over the shape of balls until he reached the base of his cock. He nibbled lightly, wetting the panties with his tongue. The organ twitched at his touch and he hummed over it.   
  
  
  
“So beautiful. Are you going to take down your knickers and flick your clit for me, hmm?” Draco teased. Purposefully referring to his parts as though he were an actual girl. But by the flush spread across his nose to his ears, he could tell it was working. “Go on, flick the tip, make yourself all _wet_ for me…”  
  
  
  
“N-No!” Harry insisted, feeling the proper virgin tonight – perhaps the dress had possessed him. But despite his words, he reached down to pull the knickers to midthigh, where Draco tugged tormentingly at the lace and Harry’s hand slid along the length of his cock. His teeth clenched, his cock jerking, spitting out globules of sticky pre-emission. “ _Blimey_ …!” he hissed, his eyes determindedly closed. He couldn’t believe Draco’s just referred to his cock as a… He couldn’t believe how _hard_ it was getting him either.  
  
  
  
A low hum of pleasure left him. He could feel the red-hot weight of Draco’s eyes on him as he tugged his foreskin gently up and down over the head of his hardness, masturbating the tip as if it weren’t an erection at all…  
  
  
  
 _When did I become this kinky?_ He thought, pressing his head hard into the couch cushions.  
  
  
  
“Thats right, rub it. Hmm, right there,” Draco teased, breathing over the leaking tip. “Look at you, you pervert. Such filthy, delicious noises! Go on, tug it, flick it. Play with the end for me, go on.”  
  
  
  
Harry shuddered, not sure whether he was grateful Draco was so turned on by this – so into it, or not. But (God help him) he loved this, this humiliation, being rendered utterly debauched and slutty under Draco’s gaze. It was like sharing a dirty little secret…  
  
  
  
“Hmm,” he panted, his voice shaky and delirious with pleasure. He pinched the head of his cock again, rolling it around underneath his foreskin, strumming it hungrily. Finally, he opened his eyes, daring to look down at where Draco was between his thighs. Harry opened his legs wider, running his toes down Draco’s sides in tempting tickles. “P-Please, Mr Malfoy,” Harry all-but purred, “S-Suck it, lick it – my – lick my little clit for me, _please_ …it’s so hard for you…”  
  
  
  
Draco’s eyes glazed over with the swelling lust, he felt Harry’s words rush through him and salivating, he dipped his tongue down to the leaking organ under his chin. “Hmm, I'll lick it, don’t worry,” he promised huskily. He rolled the point of his tongue over the swollen head, his eyes blazing and riveted to Harry’s face as he did so. He pressed into the tiny slit then and tasted that salty pearl that oozed from it. Harry groaned, lips parting in cries of seduction. Draco grinned against him as he dribbled over the end. “Mmm, Harry, so wet, look at you. Say it again, louder this time. Tell me you want me to lick it, lick your _clit_ until you cum.”  
  
  
  
Harry made a distressed sound somewhere between embarrassment and frustration. He reached down, tugging his foreskin away from the purple, weeping slit. He held Draco’s gaze this time, eyes shining and cheeks dusted with the colour of aroused humiliation. “P-Please, I’m yours, your slut – only – only you make me feel like this…! Lick it, lick my little girly clit _please_ … I want you – want you to lick it until I – I squirt all over your face…!”  
  
  
  
He gave a wheezy gasp, twisting his head in frustration. “Show me who your favourite slut is – I’m – I’m the best, out of all of them – nobody else did these things – nobody else is…” His voice trailed off, Draco’s hands on his thighs, his breath over his needy prick driving him to distraction, and yet his words betrayed the slightest tremour of lingering, repressed anxiety…  
  
  
  
Draco felt his gut flip at those words. That was right, he was his. _Finally_. “Merlin, I…” Draco grasped the end of his oozing prick then, his lips hovering over the pulsing tip. He held his hot mouth there, his tongue gliding over and over the sensitive head.  
  
  
  
Everytime with Harry lately felt amazing. He had never been more grateful for anything in his entire life. Just having this, having _him._ It still felt impossible, like a dream he’d wake up from, or a fleeting mercy life had thrown only to snatch away later. It was just a dream, it had to be because nothing could feel this good in real life. It felt like his world with Harry was as ephemeral as a bubble, fragile. But it was his bubble, his desires and dreams, and while he had this, he had to make the best of it. And he intended to.  
  
  
  
“You want me to suck it? Bloody hell, you're so…!” Draco reached his other hand lower beneath the frills, caressing the puckered, pink ring between those firm cheeks. “Relax Harry,” Draco warned, noticing just how tense this talk had made him. He could feel Harry’s every muscle drawn as taut as a drawstring. “Hmm, if you don't relax, your little clit won't get any sort of licking, now will it?” And for moments like this, when he squirmed, just for him, only _ever_ for him, Draco could almost forget he didn’t deserve this.  
  
  
  
“Hnn…tell me – tell me I’m your prettiest slut,” Harry demanded with a flush, closing his eyes again, embarrassing himself but pleasing Draco immensely in the process. “Tell me I’m – oh god, lick it, lick it and…” He winced in advance at his next words. “And finger my – my…boy pussy…” he thought his stomach just jolted with the verbal mortification that just left his lips.   
  
  
  
He reached up then, fingers gliding over his chest, the dress sticking to him with perspiration, making his nipples poke up through the fabric. He plucked them, groaning at the white-hot pleasure that bolted from the oversensitive nubs to his cock. He groaned, his body shaking uncontrollably. Another thing Snape’s wonderful pregnancy-in-a-bottle had blessed him with – hyper-sensitive body parts.  
  
  
  
Draco’s finger probed the twitching skin down at the entrance to his _‘boy pussy’_ , mapping it with dry probes before lowering his tongue to moisten that place. Deeply he delved into that dark pink place, lapping madly at it. The undignified slurping sounds, they were so dirty, but somehow he liked that. And by the way the tight ring pinched his tongue, Harry liked it too.  
  
   
  
“You're my _only_ slut, the only one who makes me _this mental_ ,” Draco admitted, hovering over that place below, watching it wink at him. “You want me to lick you?” Draco asked coolly, watching his lover tweak his own nipples through his dress. “That’s right, you whore, touch your breasts!” He groaned. And Harry jerked sideways again. “Hmmm, you smell so hot down here,” Draco teased. “I know you like my cock, but there's certain things only a tongue can do,” he warned heatedly. Harry leant up to watch as he slicked his tongue back over the tip of his cock, which twitched eagerly for more. “Hmm, someone is hard?” Draco breathed.  
  
  
  
“It’s because I want you – hurry up!” Harry insisted, his hips jerking up towards Draco’s mouth eagerly. “Y-Yours…your dirty, hungry bitch, _please_ – Draco, I…I need…” His teeth ground together and his entired body tensed with spasms. He needed to cum already. He hissed deliriously, his hole clenching as Draco’s slick muscle circled the tight ring. Struggling to relax, he reached down to run his fingers through Draco’s hair, massaging his skull encouragingly.   
  
  
  
“Yes…eat me out,” he panted, “lick my slutty bum…!” He swore he’d cum just from the way they were talking to eachother! “Tell me how delicious I taste – taste me… Draco…you’re…you’re driving me _insane_!”  
  
  
  
Draco chuckled, piercing the hole with his tongue madly. He squeezed the length of Harry’s cock while lapping at the pink, winking flesh. So hot. So Nice. Harry wriggled and cried out again, feeling a finger probe gently at his opening beside that finger, opening him up to a fuller assault from that devilish tongue. “Looks so red and pretty,” Draco murmured against his flesh between his devouring of Harry’s body. “It looks as if it’s gagging for me. You little slut…!”  
  
  
  
Harry quivered. “It's open for you,” he agreed, panting. “Just for you, it's so hungry – wants you!” He couldn't believe how arousing this was! “Don't make me wait!” But he knew Draco would draw this out as long as possible. He always did, driving him to just this side of insanity. “Show me what good little sluts get,” he groaned, grinding his flushed cheek into the sheets. “Pleeease! M…Make me…make me lose it!” It won't take much more, his mind added, staring down at where Draco flushed lips hovered near his skin, his fingers teasing his tense orifice leisurely.   
  
  
  
A low, frustrated sound left his lips and he reached down to tug Draco’s hair insistently again. “P-Please, no – no more teasing. Take me, I – I need you inside me. Show me how good I've been…!” He felt more than saw Draco smirk wickedly, lapping at the globules of arousal that left his slit. “L-Look, leaking for you, want you so bad…” He reached for his mouth then sliding his own fingers inside, attracting Draco’s attention to where his lips were wrapped around the digits, sucking hungrily. “Hmmmm!” Hary hummed around them sloppily, before reaching down and sliding two of his damp fingers alongside Draco’s, his slick chute clenching around them. He cried out again. It felt so good to be stretched open, to have Draco see the hungry mouth of his arse gaping for him. “Wants you so badly…”  
  
  
  
“Bloody hell!” Draco gasped, watching as Harry’s finger's delved deep inside himself. “That’s right, touch yourself.” Draco pulled his own fingers from that hole and watched as Harry began to give him a show. “Go on, use both hands,” he prompted, the image of him touching himself in this dress making his very skin tremble with need.  
  
  
  
Unable to bear it any longer, Draco reached down and started to rub his own hand over the trobbing ache that was pressed up against the confines of his trousers. He cried out in a mix of frustration and need. “Shit, you're so cute!” Draco said blushing. He leant over Harry then and pressed a sharp kiss to those lips. “My adorable little _wife._ Hmm?” He moved Harry’s legs so they rested upon his shoulders, grinding his heat forward into Harry’s hand as it fingered his hole.. “You want me inside you?” Draco murmured huskily.  
  
  
  
Harry nodded furiously, spreading his legs as wide as they could go and lifting his hips so that Draco could see his finger frantically stretching his hole. He winced at the embarrassing, wet noises that narrated his ministrations and shuddered at being called 'adorable' and 'cute'. He was sure only Draco Malfoy would ever call him that, and it felt wierd and perfect. “Talk – talk to me again,” he pleaded, feeling quite needy today. Some days were rough and punishing, some were like this, every time was different.   
  
  
  
“Call me – call me names?” He asked embarrassing himself more with every moment. But it all felt so good he swore his insides were melting. He loved the way Draco’s tongue skittered over his lips, the way his voice sounded when he spoke such dirty husky things to him, as if the fact that he was 'cute' was the dirtiest secret ever kept. “More…I…you're driving me mad!”  
  
  
  
“The little slut wants me to smother him with dirty-talk, hmm?” Draco taunted. “His beautiful body wants me to tell it how much I desire it? _Need it_?” Harry nodded in answer and Draco’s lips neared his ear as his words lowered to tantalising whispers. “You're so bloody hot, so amazing. The way your muscles clench and your nipples harden. I love how sensitive they are when I touch them,” Draco purred. “And your hips,” he continued, his hands gripping them as he spoke, nails grazing them with every syllable. “And I love that you're so sensitive. That you act so innocent even when you’re talking like a back-alley whore. Perfect.”  
  
  
  
Harry was flushing a darker shade than Draco had ever seen in his entire life. This was too fucking hot. He wasn't sure he could handle teasing much more. He had to have him. Now.  
  
  
  
Feeling the urgency, Harry wrapped his arms around Draco’s shoulders, running his fingers up and down the back of his neck lovingly, caressing the fine blond hairs. He felt warm, almost glowing inside. He had known Draco loved him, of course he had, but he had never believed it more. Draco was saying all these things, whispering such words in his ear, drowning him in desire, even when he looked like this. _He thinks I'm perfect, beautiful, even when I'm pregnant, even when I didn't always deserve it…  
  
_  
  
Harry tucked his head into the side of Draco’s throat, grinding his cock up into Draco’s wantonly. “Take me, I need you inside of me. Feels…feels like I…I can't breathe without you touching me!” He rubbed his cheek into Draco’s skin more ardently. “You're so perfect. You're so…so…” But Draco cut his words short by reaching down and rubbing their eager pricks together a few times, before sliding his cock down to that open ring that wanted to suck him in…  
  
  
  
“No!” Harry insisted. “Don't tease, you're killing me! Inside me! Be inside me!”  
  
  
  
“Come on you prissy girl, spread yourself wider for me.” Harry listened, spreading his legs and spreading his cheeks with his hands eagerly. “Hmm thats right slut, open for me.” Draco spat over the convulsing hole, rubbing it around liberally before pressing his prick into that welcoming heat.  
  
  
  
Harry stared up at him, watching the blond's expression and ensuring he could see his as the pulsing, swollen head pressed into his hungry entrance. “Hmmm!” He hummed deliciously as he felt himself stretch around the solid heat of Draco’s cock. “So good – stretch me good, fuck my bum!”  
  
  
  
His fingers scraped Draco’s forearms, his toes curling at the molten bliss searing his blood. He kept one arm below, spreading his cheeks wide for Draco’s entry. “That's nice, sliding right in my slutty hole,” he panted, his eyes fluttering shut. “You feel so perfect in me – you – you're meant for me!”  
  
  
  
It felt like Draco was swelling more within him with every punch of his hips, his heart leaping in bounds at Harry’s words. They did fit nicely, like they were parts of a puzzle, made to lock together, connected together as they could never be with any other piece. “I'm moving inside,” Draco said hazily, grinding against Harry’s arse as his hips danced. He held still while Harry moved on him, trying to get more. “Hmm, such a needy slut, but I like it when you're like this, on the edge, melting, literally begging with your body for more.” He chuckled softly, his prick throbbing in Harry’s hot depths. “Plead with me. Beg for it. Go on, slut, tell me to fill your hole…and touch your _clit_ while you tell me.”  
  
  
  
Harry flinched at the whiplash of pleasure striking like lightning through his body. He reached down, holding Draco’s gaze and pinched the swollen tip of his cock, rubbing the foreskin up over it, greedy for pleasure as Draco slid in and out of his hole slowly. Draco liked him like this – needy and senseless with the desire for him. Nothing else mattered when they were like this.  
  
  
  
“I love being with you,” he panted, grinding his hips back to meet those shallow thrusts, forcing that erection into his pleasure spot again and again. Every thrust tugged a low panting whine from his lips and he heard Draco chuckle darkly at the sound. “I want you! Want you in me, deeper, please,” Harry crooned, “Fuck me while I stroke myself?!”  
  
  
  
Draco’s free hand rushed up to hold the side of Harrys face then, where he cupped his blushing cheek for a moment, before reaching up to caress that lightning scar. Harry’s eyes glistened when his fingers brushed over it. “Tell me you want me, Harry, please? Tell me…tell me you need me I…I have to hear it.” Draco stammered, pushinghis cock deep inside in slow shudders. He felt those moist walls grabbing him, sucking him in.  
  
  
  
It felt odd. He was certain that even when they were doing debauched, naughty things like this he swore that amongst it still, Draco and he were… He blinked, embarrassment spiralling through his core. He swore it felt like they were… _making love_ still. His lashes fluttered and he leant into the caress, loving the way he felt right now, the way he hung on the edge of heaven every time they touched. “I need you,” he breathed softly, the passion of their union slowing a little, the hand not wrapped around his burgeoning arousal caressing Draco’s neck dotingly.  
  
  
  
“I want you so much – more than I’ve ever wanted anything. I love…” his breath hitched. “I love being with you. I need you, _please_ …”  
  
  
  
Draco felt a whirlwind of bliss rush through him at those words, like a gust blowing away the debris. His entire body tensed as he plummeted forwards into him. “Y-Your…your eyes, so…green. Piercing, _beautiful_ ,” Draco gasped senselessly, as if he didn’t quite realise what he was saying, his gaze locked on Harry’s while his body moved by itself. Their eyes were fixed together, shining with the intense bliss.  
  
  
  
Flaxen hair spilled over his shoulders and finally, he tore his eyes away. “Hmm, that’s right, fuck me with your boy pussy!” Draco teased, his brain seeming to catch up to the rest of him now.  
  
  
  
Harry gasped as Draco’s hair spilled over his face, the sight making his insides tremble and he clung to Draco’s body, not able to physically let him go as he fucked himself on the blond’s hardness. A low sound left him again, and he closed his eyes again, unable to watch him and hold onto his load at the same time. “Hmmm, watch me – watch me take it – take your huge cock! Watch me while you make me cum!”   
  
  
  
“Don't let go of your cock,” Draco warned, watching as Harry grasped his organ tight before pumping it in a manic rythmn. “You like this, hmm?” Draco asked. “I wonder if there’s anything you _don't like,_ you whore, or are you just spread wide for everything _I_ do to you?”  
  
  
  
Harry flushed. He hadn't thought of it like that before. _But you_ are _ready for everything he has to offer,_ a small voice whispered, _only him._  
  
  
  
“You're the worst kind of slut who wants his clit licked constantly, arent you?” Draco breathed against his mouth.  
  
  
  
Harry nodded hurriedly, jerking his prick, bolting towards completion. He needed to cum. “Need…need to cum,” Harry whined. “Anything… _anything_ you do to me, anytime you touch me. I love it. I love you touching me, more… _please_! I want to cum with you inside of me!” His organ felt burning hot in his hand, his hips rocking backwards and forwards, not sure whether to move towards his hand or Draco’s cock. His skin was smooth all over and he felt every touch magnified tenfold because of it, the blood rushing to every vein, setting him alight with each searing touch.  
  
  
  
“Fill me with you, _please_! Let me make a mess all over this pretty dress for you…!”  
  
  
  
 _Why is the thought of him cumming over that dress making you harder?_ Draco’s mind whispered. He leant over him then, his hands resting either side of Harry’s head on the sofa as he pounded into him. The squealching, the slapping, every little noise of them grinding into one another made his body tremble. “Bloody hell, I love the way you smell when I fuck you, your body…it’s so hot!” Draco gushed, his fingers gripping the settee as he bolted towards the big finish. “Hmm, keep stroking, keep stroking your cock for me, Harry! I… _close_ …!”  
  
  
  
Draco’s tongue rolled over his lips unconciously, his eyes arching back in their sockets and their lids flickering to stay open as the pleasure rose. His head lolled on his shoulders, his cock throbbed and his heart thundered in his chest. It felt so fucking good!  
  
  
  
Harry hooked his arm around his husband's neck, desperately fisting himself with the other hand, clinging to Draco’s body, rocking back and forth into his thrusts. He cried out huskily near Draco’s ear and the jerks into his slick hole got deeper and faster. “Hmm, I love…love everything about you,” Harry panted senselessly, feeling the ecstasy boil over inside and pulse through his body. “Nnnhhh! C-cumming! Watch me cum for you, please!”  
  
  
  
He squeezed himself harder then, his arse clenching tightly around Draco as his body arched up in spasms and he spilled his climax over the little lolita dress. He saw Draco watch the sinful, pearly strands fly over the dress, felt him tense as his body sucked him in deeper. Harry kept his eyes open, studying his face as he barrelled towards his own completion.  
  
  
  
“I-Inside me,” Harry panted needily. _Remember how much I hated it? It felt disgusting to have him take me unprotected, to have him cum inside of me and now…_ “I want it! Fill my hot hole up, please! Want to feel you burst in my arse!”  
  
  
  
“I'm cumming!” Draco gasped, those filthy words making his prick jerk inside that slick chute, sending him spiralling into a hazy oblivion. “Cumming! Ahh, so bloody good!” Draco’s entire body tensed as his hot, sticky pleasure burst in Harry’s quivering passage, his hips twitched, jerking forwards to spend every last drop inside. “Inside you…inside you, _Harry_ …!”  
  
  
  
Breathlessly, Draco fell onto his side off of Harry, a noisy, wet ‘pop’ sounding as their bodies parted, the noise barely audible above the panting gasps of spent pleasure.   
  
  
  
Harry laid his head back, inhaling shakily for a moment before reaching down to spread his cheeks. He felt Draco’s seed slide sinfully from his hole when his bum twitched in aftermath and smirked, seductively as he saw Draco looking. “That was so hot,” Harry murmured, hissing in pleasure as he traced his sloppy, loose opening. “Hmmm…get me something?” He asked, his lingering arousal allowing him more confidence that usual. “Get me something…to keep it in there with?” He suggested, wondering if Draco would appreciate the kink. When Draco just remained beside him, still hazy and panting, Harry leant up to swipe his tongue over that ear. “Plug me up, baby?” He purred daringly, trying the name out on his tongue. It felt odd matching the word to Draco, or to even _say_ the pet-name aloud, but it made Draco shudder, nonetheless. “I can't hold you in much longer,” Harry added.  
  
  
  
Draco’s eyes widened at the request, his head spinning at those words at his lover’s voice once again, but he reached for his wand and soon summoned something regardless of the tremours still slicing through him, something he knew was charmed safe for the baby. “Hmm, the little fag wants a butt-plug, hmm? Merlin, I created a monster,” he chuckled, taking the white-and-green plug and sliding it easily into Harry’s unresisting hole. He grinned. “That good enough, your highness?” Draco asked, his eyes glistening at the image.  
  
  
  
Harry squirmed, clenching experimentally around it and groaning shallowly. “Nice…feels…dirty…” He flushed, sitting up slowly, pushing it firmly into his pleasure spot. “I think you've ruined me,” Harry said teasingly, kissing Draco on the lips. He inhaled the musky scent of sex and grinned up at him sheepishly, some of his endearing awkwardnesss returning as he looked down at himself. “Looks like we both liked my present,” he said, summoning his wand and banishing the sticky mess from the dress.   
  
  
  
“You know, I'm glad I owl ordered this, can you imagine the things that'd be in the paper if someone saw me?” He laughed then, seeing Draco return with an easy smile, and Harry stood shakily, still full of the plug Draco had conjured. “You liked it?” Harry asked again when he saw the blond scan his sex-tousled appearance, the pretty skirt flaring out, hiding what Draco had just slid into him.  
  
  
  
Harry stepped towards him, wrapping his arms around his neck to call those eyes back to his face. “I think your mother may protest at the dress, but I could wear the plug for you at dinner? You could have fun taking it out after?” He punctuated his words with a lazy lick of Draco’s neck. “Tell me you liked my gift, baby?” He probed, testing out the name again and finding it didn’t quite suit Draco (or his voice for that matter). But he wanted to hear Draco’s answer. “Did I look nice?” It was easier to be conifdent when Draco reacted so nicely.  
  
  
  
“Blimey, Harry!” Draco hissed, darting away from his sudden hot breath. “If you don't want me to fuck you again, I suggest you back off a little.” Harry just smirked at that while Draco’s lashes fluttered. “However, if you want to wear the plug to dinner, I have no objections…” That smirk Harry wore was reflected on the blond’s lips then, and Harry nodded. “And by the way, you do look extremely pretty in that dress. I think I should get you more outfits like this,” he added.  
  
  
  
Harry grinned. “I’d like that – maybe when…when the baby is born though and I don’t have to look like some pregnant dominatrix,” he laughed, petting the bump through the lacy bodice. He wondered what _interesting_ things Draco might come up with, and images of being bound and taken in debauched clothes flashed through his mind. He shuddered and stepped back from Draco a little more to resist temptation.  
  
  
  
“So I suppose I should find something a little less… _slutty_ to wear to your mother’s Christmas meal?” He mused, heading back into the bedroom, hearing Draco close behind. “ _Divesto_!” He chanted, flicking his wand at himself and the dress flew off easily, landing gently on the bed. He really loved the simplicity of magic, he thought, not for the first or last time as he reached for his newest Weasley jumper and pulled it on before tugging on some grey undies.  
  
  
  
“Magic really helps with the mobility issues of pregnancy, you know,” Harry said to Draco over his shoulder as he struggled into his trousers. “Your daughter is growing me out of all my clothes – I’m having to magically stretch them!” But Draco was quiet and watching him contentedly, evidently listening carefully to his voice rather than his actual words.  
  
  
  
“So…I _really_ can’t have my present now?” Harry tried again, “I gave you mine.”  
  
  
  
“No!,” Draco said with mock annoyance, “You've made it this far, honestly you really are like a little excitable girl.” Harry’s face looked nothing else but _petulant_ just then and Draco grinned. “Don't give me that look. I won't give in,” he promised, moving over to drawers to find a tie. “I wonder what Severus and Mother will be wearing. They usually make an effort for these kind of meals…” Draco looked at Harry then, noticing him getting into comfy jeans. “You cant wear those!”  
  
  
  
Harry looked down at himself and then shrugged, kicking them off and pulling off his Weasley jumper to go look in the armoire for a shirt and trousers that would still fit. “I don’t know do I? I never had a Christmas dinner until the Weasleys started to invite me, and with them it’s a pyjama and _comfies_ kind of event.” He frowned, picking out the only pair of black trousers he _knew_ to fit and scrambling into them. He scowled at the wardrobe. “I don’t have a shirt,” he said, reaching for the largest one and pulling it on to show that it wouldn’t quite stretch anymore. “You’ve made me fat, Draco Malfoy!” Harry grumbled, staring down at the bump.  
  
  
  
“This is a _Malfoy_ dinner, surely you should know better?!” Draco snapped. “And besides, I didn't ask for you to get pregnant, now did I? So shut up!” Draco moved around he bed then, searching through his clothes. “Here!” He said, tossing Harry a clean shirt.   
  
  
  
“Its pink!” Harry protested.   
  
  
  
“Well it’s the biggest one I have, besides, it will look classy with a formal robe and tie.”  
  
  
  
Harry stared at it for a few moments. “I'm not wearing it,” he declared, irrational irritation prickling him. Draco walked over to him then, seizing his chin between his finger and thumb and glaring into those impossibly green eyes. “What if I said you looked beautiful in it? Would you wear it then?”  
  
  
  
Harry blinked, then turned his face away without freeing himself from the blond’s grasp. Draco was a difficult person to understand, a difficult person to get on with if he didn’t particularly _like_ you and Harry had to wonder just how many people Draco Malfoy had _ever_ called beautiful. It made him feel strangely… _better_.  
  
  
  
“Don’t flatter me to get your way, Draco Malfoy,” Harry murmured, “it wont work.” Except it would, and it _was_ …  
  
  
  
Those fingers tipped his head back again so their gazes locked and Harry raised his chin defiantly. “I won’t look beautiful, I’ll look like a bloated pigmy puff.” He didn’t even know why he was arguing, Draco was very good at seducing him, hadn’t he already proved that?  
  
  
  
“Hmm, it won't work will it?” Draco mused, watching as Harry pulled back to put one arm through a sleeve. “See, what were you, afraid of looking like a little piggy?” Draco teased, watching Harry take it off again in a huff. _Touchy pregnant hormones_ , he thought. “Fine then, go naked, see if I care.” Harry seemed to be so tetchy of late, and it only made Draco feel like a rambunctious school boy again, wanting to test the _Golden Boy’s_ temper. “I didn't say you wouldn't look like a beautiful little piggy, now did I?” Draco added, laughing. “Don’t sulk, you prat.”  
  
  
  
Harry frowned, throwing the shirt on the bed and looking down at himself with disdain, before pulling back on his Weasley jumper and storming past Draco. “You think I _want_ to be like this? You never asked for this, but I didn’t either and it’s _me_ this is changing! It’s all fine and dandy when you’re petting my stomach like it doesn’t matter to you but I–” His voice lost to his body quivering in anger, hands curling into fists. “You ruined everything you wanker!”   
  
  
  
He made a point of not looking back, of slamming the door behind him and he looked around, before realising that since Draco had proclaimed the bathroom off limits he had nowhere private to sit. After a final glance of the lounge, he moved into the new nursery, scanning the warm, soothing room carefully as he closed the door behind him. It felt cosy (although it was huge) and just as he had done when he had last left the room, his fingers glided over the blanket that topped the pile of gifts waiting there for his daughter.  
  
  
  
It felt quiet in here, calming and he crossed the room to sit in the rocking chair by the vacant crib, both carved from dark wood with twists and turns and engravings of elaborate shapes. He leant back and the chair rocked with his weight slightly as his eyes were drawn to where his hands were folded on his stomach. He felt guilty now…  
  
  
  
“I’m sorry,” he said, even though the bump couldn’t hear him. “It’s not you, it’s just the situation, the changing and…and how bloody unsupportive your father – _other father_ is about it. Jokes…he made a joke out of it…he _laughed at me_!” He tipped his head back onto the headrest closing his eyes against the room. He felt the anger slowly draining from his body and he gradually relaxed, so much that he didn’t even bother to open his eyes when the nursery door opened.  
  
  
  
Draco’s eyes were wide with a fair amount of shock and confusion. He had only been joking. His heart had sunk when Harry stormed out in a huff and as he stood there, studying Harry where he sat in the rocking chair, he felt his hands shake with something he didn't quite understand. He felt quite sick…  
  
   
  
“Harry?” Draco asked with a choked toned. “Surely you know I was joking?” But Harry didn't look up at him at all as he closed the door behind him and stepped closer to where Harry sat. “I…I love you…our baby, I didn't… I didn't mean to ruin everything. You still think that I've ruined you? Even now, after you…I thought that…” Draco stopped himself for just a moment to think, to try and make sense of his maddening thoughts.  
  
  
  
Had he been right? That the walls of this dream would someday crumble? What was he thinking, living and dreaming that Harry Potter could ever love him, be happy with him, _be a family_ with him?! Did Harry still resent him? Draco didn't understand at all, particularly after what they’d just shared. He thought that Harry was finally beginning to…  
  
  
  
 _He was never in love with you, you idiot, he never will be. Go back to admiring him in your shrine,_ his mind supplied. He mentally cringed at that. He’d thought they had made so much progress, but by that outburst, he couldn't have been more wrong, evidently.   
  
  
  
“I'll leave you then. Shall I…shall I tell mother you're not feeling well?” Draco said as he turned to grab the handle of the door.   
  
  
  
The man flinched when something soft collided with the side of his head. He turned to see Harry standing, glaring at him, a soft toy lying on the floor where it had hit his head.  
  
  
  
“You prat! I didn’t mean ruin _me_! I meant ruined today! I was happy, I was having a nice time! Everyone I loved sat round the table with me – and we…we had sex. I took a bloody risk doing that for you but I felt…I felt good and you spoiled it by being an arse about my stomach!” Harry had to stop to draw in breath from his rant there, the calm he had felt a moment ago replaced with frustration at Draco not understanding.   
  
  
  
“I’ve got all these bloody hormones charging through my body that aren’t meant to be there – you should know better than to make bloody jokes you pillock! I don’t want you to leave me, I want you to understand! This is terrifying and it’s hard and it’s painful – _dangerous even_ and sometimes you’re about as sympathetic about it as a toadstool!”   
  
  
  
“Harry, I think the way you look right now is the most amazing thing in the world! You're carrying my daughter, how could that not be beautiful? You already know this, so why are you acting like a brat? I was just giving you some light hearted humor for _merlin’s sake_! Hormones or not, you’re acting like a twat!” Draco’s eyes drew narrow then with his own frustration. “And you know what? I don't like you at all when you're acting like this. _Of course_ I know how hard it is, I'm not a bloody idiot! You're honestly such a twit! I mean…”   
  
  
  
Draco had to look away for a moment, to rein in the rage surging through him. Though in all honesty, he was more defensive because he had hurt Harry unintentionally. He had never meant to. “I can't…maybe you _do_ need rest!”  
  
  
  
“I don’t need to rest, I’m fine,” Harry scowled at him. “It just wouldn’t kill you to tell me how you feel more often! You’re all I – bloody hell, I just want you to say the things I need to hear. You can say them when we’re fucking, why cant you say them when we aren’t?” He stopped then, thinking for a moment. Maybe he was being unreasonable, he didn’t mean to be…  
  
  
  
Moving across the room he picked up the teddybear he’d lobbed at Draco’s head and stared at it for a few, fleeting seconds, before meeting Draco’s gaze again. “You think I look…alright like this?” Silence followed. “I just…I thought it was weird and I mean…people always want to touch me all the time. I feel like a bit of a freak of nature.”  
  
  
  
“No, you look fucking awful, that what you want to hear?” Draco scowled at him hurtfully. “You're a hyprocrite, Harry. I say how I feel about you more than you have ever said of your feelings. Think! The most I have ever had to reassure my feelings, was in the throes of passion when you said I was amazing or something I didn't quite hear. I don't even have a _clue_ as to how you feel. You're the one who is closed, you never tell me anything, I'm simply left to _assume!_ I told you just now how much I love you. You know how fucking in love with you I am, yet I'm the one who should be telling you more? At least _you know_ how I feel, even if I am…reserved at times…”  
  
  
  
Harry dropped his gaze at the defeat in Draco’s voice, not able to help from realising he had assisting in the spoiling of their day. “What do you want me to say?” He declared exhaustedly, postponing the moment when he would have to give a proper answer by crossing the room to put the stuffed toy back on the shelf he had snatched it from. He set it there carefully, as if it would break and remained still for a moment, staring at the empty crib.  
  
  
  
“I don’t know how I feel about you,” he said quietly, honestly. “I think…I think about it a lot and I just… I’m not good with emotions, I never have been. I thought I really liked Cho but I didn’t understand her. I thought I loved Ginny and I didn’t…” He set his hands on the rail of the crib and sighed, still not facing him.  
  
  
  
Draco had every right to be angry, he knew that, but he felt so…so _uneasy_ when he was. He felt alone. He didn’t like Draco being angry with him. “I just know that it hurt to think that I would have to leave you some day, it made me bitter, I hated it and I wanted to stay. I was happy when you asked me to stay. The only thing I know is that I cant do without you. I’m…I’m not sure how to put what I feel for you into words. I thought that…you said that was alright.”  
  
  
  
Draco felt something inside him break, there had been times over the last few months where he had really thought Harry loved him. He moved over to the window then, breathing deeply, before answering him. Harry could see the liquid gathering in his eyes as he stared at him from across the room. Draco didn't look at him directly. “It's… _of course_ it is, I…I want you…want you here more than anything. But I…just don't expect me to open my heart to you any more than I have when you don't even know what you feel.”  
  
  
  
Draco sighed. It wasn't coming out correctly. “Look, I want you here, of course I do, but only if that’s what you want too. Even if you don't know how you feel, I'm okay with that. As long as you feel something, as long as you care enough to stay, and enjoy it when I'm close to you… _holding you_ , that is good enough, more than, in fact.”  
  
  
  
Harry turned to face him properly, drawing in a shaky breath before drawing his tongue over his lips. He stepped forwards, pressing his cheek to Draco’s shoulder, fully anticipating a rejection. He pulled his arms up round him, squeezing him. “I’m not really sure what love feels like,” he explained quietly into Draco’s shirt, wishing those arms would come up to return the embrace. His fingers trailed up his husband’s back, caressing the soft, blond ponytail that hung between those shoulderblades.   
  
  
  
“But I love…love it when we’re close, I love it when you touch me. I – I’m sorry for being a git, I want to stay. I’m – _we’re_ happy here, aren’t we? Don’t make me leave.”  
  
  
  
Part of Draco wanted to shove him off, but whenever he touched him he felt so helpless, like he just couldn't help but give in. His eyes fluttered again. Why did he keep feeling like this more and more lately? Like he just couldn't say no, couldn't keep away. He stilled in those arms, pride rendering him unable to hug him back, but he still could not pull away either.  
  
  
  
“I don't want you to leave,” Draco said cooly. “Never wanted you to leave…just… Harry, I hate the way you make me feel sometimes. I've never felt anything like this, it’s like a need for you. I just....I want whatever you can give me,” Draco realised he was mumbling a lot and then so turned from Harry, slipping from his arms. “Come on, we need to get you ready. I'll find you a clean white shirt, we can expand one of mine for you since I have more formal wear…”  
  
  
  
Harry opened his mouth to protest, needing more of that closeness, but he decided that Draco wishes were more important, and followed him back into the bedroom. He kept his eyes locked on Draco’s vacant expression as the blond routed through the armoire, he hadn’t said anything for a while now. And he still said nothing, except for a quiet _“here”_ as he stood, yanking the ungodly Weasley jumper from him and pulling the shirt over his shoulders.   
  
  
  
“I meant everything I said,” Harry said quietly, breaking the silence while Draco worked the buttons of his shirt. “You’re amazing. You’re beautiful. You’re everything to me.” When Draco still didn’t raise his eyes from where his fingers were doing up the buttons Harry took one of those hands in his, and laid it over his own nervously fluttering heart. Finally those eyes met his and Harry stared into the storm meaningfully. “No one’s ever made me feel these things before,” he assured him. “And I’ll die if you ever leave me.”  
  
  
  
“This is exactly what I mean!” Draco snapped, pulling his hand away. “You don't know how you feel, yet you will die if I leave you? Harry I don't want to hear that sort of thing.” Harry took a few steps backwards then, evidently hurt and Draco winced. “I didn't mean…” Draco moved back towards him and grabbed him, arms flying to his shoulders. His lips closed in and met Harry’s forcefully, holding him there for a few, long moments.   
  
  
  
At last, their mouths parted, but Draco did not release his grip on his shoulders. “I don't know what…my…everything is a blur at the moment. I'm flattered, it makes me happy, I suppose, that you would die for me. I suppose it just frustrates me that you're confused about how you feel when you _do_ enjoy being close to me,” Draco explained, pausing to give Harry a time to answer. But it was apparent Harry didn’t have one. Not yet, at any rate. All Harry had done was be honest about how he felt, about how Draco made him feel, even if he didn't understand what it was he was feeling or why. Draco knew that and he felt suddenly disgusted with himself. How could he shout at the person he loved just because he didn't know for certain? He was being selfish with his need. He should have just been grateful that Harry was giving him as much as he currently was, especially since he shot him down for trying just now…  
  
  
  
“I'm sorry… I didn't mean to… Just…thank you for staying with me, for telling me that you would die for me, that you like me touching you…that…that alone makes me happier than I’ve ever…just… _sorry_.”  
  
  
  
Harry smoothed his fingers up through Draco’s hair, tugging his mouth back to his gently. “I would die for you, over and over again if I had to. You should know that. When you touch me it feels like fire and ice at the same time,” he breathed tipping his head forward to rest against Draco’s, their noses touching as he inhaled the calming scent of him and reached into the shirt Draco had just finished buttoning up. The overwhelmingly stunning gift Draco had given him, the Illumiglass in his palm. “See, it’s not shining – I’m happy,” he promised, fiddling idly with the thin cord around his neck that it hung on as usual.  
  
  
  
He closed his eyes briefly, breathing him in again. “You make me happy…”  
  
  
  
Draco gave him a small smile, looking at the pendant he had given him. He was right, he was happy. “We really need to get ready, or mother will–”   
  
_  
  
POP!  
  
_  
  
Eric appeared before them then, bowing low and smiling up at his masters with a crown of green and red tinsel on his head. “Merry Christmas, Master Draco, Master Harry Malfoy,” Eric chimed, forcing another of Harry’s pregnancy potion’s into his dark-haired master’s hands. “And Mistress is wanting you downstairs for dinner now, masters,” he explained.  
  
  
  
“We’ll be down in just a moment, Eric, please tell her so,” Draco asked, glancing to Harry as his husband choked back the vile potion. The elf bowed low again and vanished with another pop.  
  
  
  
“Come on, hurry up,” Draco ushered him, helping Harry to fasten his tie and simple black robe. He glanced up at him then, surprising Harry with the sudden heat in his gaze. He seized Harry then, pulling him in flush against his own body, his hands palming his arse, reminding him of the toy still buried within. “And for the record, I'm happy as well,” he added, hurrying him out of the door just when Harry thought he was about to lean in for a kiss. He passed his husband a fleeting smile as he escourted him out into the hall.  
  
  
  
 _  
  
~To Be Continued..._


	22. The Gift

[Twenty-Two]  
  
 **The Gift**  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Dinner was an… _odd_ affair to say the least. Delicious, no doubt (and Harry was very grateful that no one mentioned the fact that he was already on seconds) but it still felt strange to be comfortable in the company of Snape and Narcissa.  
  
  
  
“Do you like the yorkshire pudding, Harry?” Narcissa asked idly.  
  
  
  
Harry flushed, nodding as he slid the second helping onto his fork. “It’s one of my favourites,” he said, “Along with treacle tart. Shepherds pie is good too…”  
  
  
  
“Have you and Draco started talking about names for the baby?” She asked, pouring Snape another glass of wine. Harry shrugged, not really sure what to say, but if he said nothing, he supposed it would seem rude and Narcissa was important to Draco.   
  
  
  
“Not really, but my mother’s name was Lily so…I suppose I’d like that to be considered.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Draco pull a slight face, but the blond said nothing, Narcissa on the other hand…  
  
  
  
“Well family names _are_ important,” she agreed, but Harry could sense she was politely expressing her disagreement with the name. “The Malfoy family tree has hundreds of names to choose from.”  
  
  
  
 _I shan’t be naming her after_ ‘Aunty Bellatrix’ _if that’s what she thinks,_ Harry thought, but then he knew he was being unfair. Draco and Narcissa hadn’t seemed entirely fond of their mad relative; Draco in particular, seemed to have recoiled from her every time he’d been in her presence. Not really knowing what to say, he looked to Draco for a suggestion. “Do you have any ideas?”   
  
  
  
“I haven't really thought about it. I…” He blushed slightly. “Something elegant, I suppose, especially if she is to inherit my good looks.” Harry didn't look in the least bit amused and Snape, meanwhile, had remained quiet since Harry’s suggestion. He should have expected it in all honesty though, especially considering how much this man loved the memory of the mother he never gotten to know.  
  
  
  
“Yes,” Narcissa agreed, cutting through Professor Snape’s reverie. “I think something elegant would be fitting for her. She would be a real Malfoy then, I think.” She summoned the gravy jug to her, offering it in turn to each of them, every bit the proper host she had been raised to be.  
  
  
  
Harry glanced to Snape, only just realising his mistake about mentioning his mother when the man fell silent. “Well, I suppose it’s important that you two agree as well,” he said, indicating Snape and Narcissa, “She wouldn’t exist without you.” He played with his roast potatoes a little, mashing them up with his chicken. “I’ve been wondering if…if when she err…” He trailed off, hoping that someone would grasp what he meant to say. They didn’t. “When she – you know, _comes_ , do I have to be at St Mungo’s or like…can it be here?” When everyone looked directly at him, he cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I mean, I don’t even know how it’s going to happen exactly, not really, but I’ve umm…never really liked that place.”  
  
  
  
“You will probably have to give birth in hands of the professionals, Harry. You're a man giving birth, so the possible complications, the risks are higher. It's unlikely you will be able to give birth at home,” Snape explained bluntly. That answered his question more than clearly enough. “Of course, it depends on how the birth goes and when,” Snape added, in a low, contemplative voice.  
  
  
  
Harry looked round to Draco for comfort then, but he seemed more interested in his food.   
  
  
  
“I don’t like the thought (or the sound) of giving birth. Can't you just magic the baby out or something?” He asked.  
  
  
  
Snape raised a dark brow. “If it were that easy, Harry, every witch and wizard would do it. The best things in life do not come cheaply, I am afraid.”  
  
  
  
“I’m not afraid of pain,” Harry admitted, and it was the truth, he wasn’t. He had suffered enough of it from a young age; he had a high enough tolerance for it. “I’m afraid of being…well _helpless_ ,” he murmured quietly, as if ashamed of the fact. “Anything could happen to me, to _her_ while I’m… _incapacitated_ with it and I won’t be able to do anything to stop it. Or if something goes wrong with her, or me – there’s just so many things that could…” He cut his words short as he felt Draco’s hand on his thigh, squeezing gently and he looked at him directly, having thought he’d not even been listening.  
  
  
  
“Sorry,” Harry murmured, realising he’d been worrying Draco with his ramblings.  
  
  
  
“Try not to be anxious, we have an appointment next week with O’Dempsy. She will tell you of the risks now we’re at this stage, answer any questions you have. You can ask her for reassurances then, as for now, just enjoy your Christmas dinner,” Draco said. Narcissa glanced to Severus out of the corner of her eye. Each time they watched Draco’s interaction with Harry, he seemed to have changed in some way, for the better. He was comforting Harry, caring for someone other than himself, something they rarely got to see. It was… _nice._  
  
  
  
Draco raised his head then, catching his mother’s thoughtfully gaze. “What?” Draco asked, glancing down, wondering if he had spilled something. “What is it?”   
  
  
  
She blinked, snapping from her daze and quickly she averted her eyes. “Nothing, my dear, tuck in!”  
  
  
  
Harry smiled as a confused frown creased Draco’s brow, and he slid one hand underneath the table to caress the warmth of Draco’s thigh lovingly. Their devilish daughter thumped him hard then, knocking a sharp gasp from him, drawing every pair of eyes back to him once more. “I’m fine,” he assured them, not removing his hand from Draco’s thigh, the other massaging his stomach slowly. “She wants her ice-cream,” he mused, looking to Draco. “She must have your sweet tooth.” He glanced up to see Snape eyeing their interaction thoughtfully, and he couldn’t help himself.   
  
  
  
“Do you want to feel her, Professor?” He asked, stifling his amusement when he saw Snape look a little uncomfortable, before sipping at his wine in distraction.  
  
  
  
“That will not be necessary,” the man murmured. Harry smirked, but then turned to Draco again with another question that had been worrying him.  
  
  
  
“Male pregnancy is sort of standard knowledge in the Wizarding world, right?” He asked, to which Draco nodded into his goblet as he took a sip. “So…” Harry began, lowering his voice a little, “You err…you know I’ve had…err…tender nipples? I’ve been sort of reading and… I’m not going to… _do that_ , am I?” He asked, watching Draco’s brows fly up in surprise. _If he laughs, I’ll crush his nuts,_ Harry thought, the hand on Draco’s thigh tensing. “Like make… Oh, _Merlin_ , you know what I mean. They aren’t sore because of _that_ are they?”  
  
  
  
Not for the first time in his life, he wished he understood a bit more about the Wizarding world. He’d lived in it for ten years now, and he still knew so little. _I’m doomed to being considered an ignorant fool for all eternity._  
  
  
  
Draco looked beside himself with embarrassment. This was _just_ what he wanted to talk about at the dinner table, on Christmas day, in front of his bloody mother nonetheless. Harry would be getting one hell of a punishment later. Draco cleared his throat uncomfortably. However, it was Narcissa who answered Harry. _Thank Merlin!_  
  
  
  
“No, Harry,” Narcissa assured him softly. “The potion you… _took_ , did not imbue you with the necessary _instruments_ to produce milk.”  
  
  
  
Draco avoided looking at him even more now, removing his hand from his thigh. “Great table manners, Harry,” he snapped, but Narcissa, once again, was quick with to rise to his defence.  
  
  
  
“Draco, the only one who is sitting here flustered is you. You're the only one who's getting awkward. Harry’s fine now that’s out of his system,” she said, “You should be more understanding of his uncertainty.”  
  
  
  
Harry gave Draco an apologetic look that was ignored and sighed, nodding thankfully to Narcissa. _Is it really my fault if my potion’s teacher decided to give me a pregnancy potion without explaining the details?_ His cheeks coloured, feeling really stupid now. “So a bloke having a baby in his belly is normal but a lactation question is ridiculous?” Harry mumbled, tucking into his ice cream as soon as it appeared. At least the maple syrup smothering the top would sate his cravings.  
  
  
  
Reaching into his pocket Draco felt for his wand as a wicked thought crossed his mind. Harry was still sitting there with the plug in his arse. He tired to smother a grin, as he thought; _perhaps he won’t have to wait until later for his punishment after all…_  
  
  
  
With a subtle flick of his wand, he bid the toy to awaken. To vibrate at its highest setting. Harry jumped in surprise, his legs slamming into the table at the sudden burst of pleasure, and Draco turned it back down to medium. “You alright, Harry?” Draco asked, grinning from ear-to-ear. Harry looked at him sharply.   
  
  
  
“Yes. Fine!”  
  
  
  
“Harry, what happened?” Narcissa asked.  
  
  
  
“Moth!” Harry exclaimed. Draco laughed. He was getting used to that inadequate excuse. “Gone now,” Harry said, shifting in his chair uncomfortably.   
  
  
  
“I don't particularly like moths either,” Draco stated, amused. “Anyway, something you were saying before, Harry?”  
  
  
  
Harry shook his head a little too frantically, sticking his spoon into the little mound of ice cream and putting more in his mouth to cover up his gasp of sudden pleasure. His bum clenched around the silent toy buzzing in his still slick hole and he fidgeted uncomfortably, the hard chair pushing it up into a place that made his eyes glaze over. He knew that tone of Draco’s voice. He was being punished.  
  
  
  
Suddenly, the intensity heightened and he choked on his mouthful of ice cream spluttering breathlessly. Draco made a show of patting his back.  
  
  
  
“Alright there? Perhaps your bottomless stomach has found its end?” Snape drawled. Harry scowled.  
  
  
  
“I’m eating for two!” Harry declared, irritated with his punishment’s timing.  
  
  
  
“Heh, he probably tried forcing too much in his mouth at once,” Draco chuckled, and though Harry could hear the more intimate teasing in his words it looked as if Snape and Narcissa were oblivious to it. “He is always quite greedy when it comes to his desserts,” Draco said lowly. Dangerously. So husky that Severus caught onto that one and shot Draco a warning look. Harry seemed to be shifting frantically in his chair and Draco couldn't help but snigger.  
  
  
  
“May I have some ice-cream too?” Draco requested and an identical serving immediately appeared before him. Harry watched him as he spooned the cool dessert into his devilish mouth, and he felt that thing inside him shoot up another level.  
  
  
  
 “D-Did umm…you two both like your gifts? I wasn’t sure what to get you,” Harry tried at conversation, squirming uncomfortably. Snape answered first, setting his goblet down and peering at Harry, as if he knew _exactly_ what was going on under the table.   
  
  
  
“It was very useful – the volumes, I haven’t had opportunity to read them yet,” he drawled.  
  
  
  
“And the picture of the baby was a lovely thought, Harry,” Narcissa added, sincere in her smile. “It is still odd to think I will be a grandmother soon.”  
  
  
  
Harry stared at her, thinking that she looked much prettier when she smiled, and that it was her that Draco had gotten the expression from. He had always thought Draco was a miniature Lucius Malfoy, but on seeing them closer, on knowing them all better, he could see it as clear as day. Draco was all Narcissa, Lucius couldn’t _touch_ him.  
  
  
  
He thought he’d adjusted to the sensation, and clung to coherent thought. But then, Draco kicked the vibrations up a notch and he went rigid in his seat, his cock hard against the boundaries of his trousers (and thankfully hidden in the fabric). He lost his coherency and his vision swam. He struggled through it, his hair hanging into his eyes and hiding his flush as he finished his ice cream politely. He downed his pumpkin juice when he’d finished, looking imploringly to Draco.  
  
  
  
“Umm…may I be excused? The err…the baby doesn’t like these tight trousers,” he tried.  
  
  
  
Yes, Snape knew, there was definitely something going on. Something less than innocent.   
  
  
  
“What, right now, Harry dear?” Narcissa asked. Snape intervened then, _knowing._  
  
  
  
“Let him go, Narcissa, he is carrying a child after all, I am sure you remember what that is like.”  
  
  
  
“Very well then,” Narcissa said, watching Harry remove himself. Draco just sniggered, pushing the intensity of the toy up to full. Harry bolted from sight in reaction, running out of the door before he lost control.   
  
  
  
“Well, that was…sudden,” Narcissa acknowledged, tucking into her own dessert.   
  
  
  
“Now that we are alone, Draco, how have things been with him?” Severus asked after a moment. Draco looked up at Snape. Quietly. “What do you mean? Fine, it's fine.”  
  
  
  
“He seems most anxious about the child, but other than that? You’ve been married for a few months and yet you have both changed so immeasurably. Such strains must be taking their toll on you both?” Severus surveyed him from over the rim of his goblet, swirling the contents thoughtfully. He loathed how very meddlesome and silently pensive he had become – how very like Albus bloody Dumbledore…  
  
  
  
“I must confess, we hadn’t anticipated him falling for you so quickly,” Narcissa added. “He already moves according to you, looks at you when he’s confused. He has a glow about him that you have given.” She glanced briefly from Severus to Draco. “Is there…there anything? Anything we can…?” She chewed her full lips, a nervous movement his mother never, ever betrayed. She was always calm, collected…  
  
  
  
“I know that your father has done the unforgivable, Draco,” she said at last, finding her voice, though it was shaky and wavering. Draco’s eyes flew wide and turned on Snape in horror. But Snape gave the tiniest shake of his head, signalling for Draco to remain quiet, and Draco knew then, that the potion’s master had given her some, but not all of the story.  
  
  
  
“I knew that he loathed this connection between you and Harry, he has hated that you cared for him from the start but I never expected him to…and especially with our own _granddaughter_ at risk…” She shook her head, her long, slender hands (so like his own) knotting in her evening dress. “I cannot… Family was always everything to him, I cannot understand. He had his faults but he always… I understand that as the legal head of the family you have cast him out and I – I cannot fault you, my son,” she assured him, her eyes shining with wetness and she reached for him, and he her, their hands interlocking. She was shaking.  
  
  
  
Was this what happened? When you were betrayed by the person you loved most?   
  
  
  
What would it be like if she knew the whole story?  
  
  
  
“My precious boy – I…he is not the man I thought I knew, indeed he is the worst kind of monster…to try and harm Harry like that, to have those men come after him… The wards are against him, he cannot enter the house as long as you forbid it, but legal action must be brought to the ministry. I am _certain_ they will help, particularly since it is Harry in danger also.” She scanned her beloved, treasured son’s face, her hands moving to cup his cheeks, arms still shaking. “I cannot believe the monster he is. I think…I think I had always known, but hoped against it…” Smiling sadly, she tipped her head, thumbs caressing his cheekbones gently. “We cannot choose who we love, I believe you understand me, my son. And I hope you do not hold it against me…”  
  
  
  
 Draco felt a torrent of emotions rush through him; he had of course worried about what would happen with his father. He knew how much his mother loved him, but also how much she loved Draco. “I…I don't know what we’re supposed to do. I don't…even after everything he’s done, he’s still my father,” Draco admitted, bowing his head as if he were ashamed of the fact. “ _Your_ husband mother. We can’t just wish him dead and be done with it.”  
  
  
  
Draco stared down into his half-empty glass. He knew that he would find it hard enough when the time came, to eliminate that man, but his mother seemed to be less worried then he about losing him. Perhaps she was simply covering it up better than he? Or perhaps, simply putting Draco before herself, and her feelings for his father?  
  
  
  
“We…we _can't_ kill him!” Draco gasped, quite sick with the thought. “Talking about…about simply exterminating him, like an awful case of flesh-eating slugs! This is inhuman–!”  
  
  
  
“He _isn't_ human,” Snape interjected. “And if you want the slightest chance of happiness, there is no other way.”  
  
  
  
Draco looked between his old professor and his mother, who had started to sob softly. He winced. “Well can't we send him to Azkaban or…or _something_?!”  
  
  
  
“Draco, I don't understand,” Snape said, as coolly as he could manage. “After all the things he has done to you? And still you're…” He frowned, glancing to Narcissa briefly. “Draco, if you want to go before the Wizengamot and relay your past, then that is fine. But I cannot see you desiring to stand in front of the world, watch them lay your suffering across the front page of the Prophet; it will _ruin_ you, and your family. He has already taken so much from you; _do not_ allow him to steal anything else.”  
  
  
  
Draco worried his lip between his teeth. “I understand that, but…” His eyes stung as he tried to look at anywhere but them. “Mother, what about… I mean, he’s your _husband_ , you can't really… Do you think you could live knowing that we killed him?”  
  
  
  
“Draco, I don't think we would be the ones to do it. There are other people for that. Lucius would merely, disappear,” Narcissa replied, her words were a conspiring whisper. Beside her, Severus nodded, his hand clasping hers across the table. Draco saw them clasp at each other this way, like a controlled lifeline.  
  
  
  
“Your mother is right, Draco,” Snape agreed darkly. “We were _all_ forced to do dark things in our lives, for the war, for our own preservation. My hands will never come clean, but I am not afraid of death in the name of justice, in the name of _your_ long-deserved happiness.” He saw Draco’s head shake in denial and Snape gently removed Narcissa from her place before him and took the boy’s shoulders firmly.  
  
  
  
“You love him as I loved Albus Dumbledore, and I killed him with my magic, the very gift he nurtured and protected. I killed him to save your life, Harry’s life – _everyone’s_ lives. Sometimes, the people we love die, Draco. Sometimes they need to…”  
  
  
  
When it was put like that, it didn't seem quite as bad, but still…it didn’t feel right. “I don't care to discuss it really,” Draco said vacantly.   
  
  
  
“Draco, we _have_ to discuss it, you cannot keep running away!” Narcissa looked quite worried, doubting herself. She was just as uneasy as him.  
  
  
  
“Don't want to discuss what?” Harry asked as he stepped back into the room, returning to the table. Snape sighed with annoyance.   
  
  
  
“The subject that is Lucius. And don't give me that look, Draco Malfoy. I am older and _far_ wiser than you. Your husband needs to hear this as well.”  
  
  
  
Harry surveyed them all in confusion, but when he saw the expressions on their faces, tortured, _torn_ , he knew what the topic of discussion was. Lucius’s fate. He took his seat beside Draco, willing him to meet his eyes, but he would not and so Harry’s hand slid across his lap to grasp his hand tightly. He never once looked away from him.   
  
  
  
There was a moment between them all and then Harry glanced to Narcissa, certain that she didn’t know the whole story of what Lucius had done to Draco and he leant in, pressing his forehead to the side of Draco’s, his mouth just above the blond’s ear. “When you suffered, when you were trapped, or hurt, didn’t you ever wish for someone to come save you?” Harry breathed, so that only Draco could hear. He squeezed Draco’s hand a little tighter. “Let them save you. Let them stop the person who hurt you, and me, and hundreds of others…”  
  
  
  
Harry drew back a little to allow Draco his space, but he kept watching him. He had never known Lily and James Potter, not really, and he knew that at the core, whatever faults he had come to know over the years, they were good people – good enough to fight for what was right until the end. Good enough to risk their lives for each other, and him. He had thought that that was the standard people had, that that was what _people did._ He had grown now, he had seen evil, tasted it. He had watched the people he loved die around him. He knew now that good didn’t triumph just _because_ it was _good_. That good people died for no reason, not every mother or father was a good man or woman. Mrs Black had disowned Sirius had she not? And Narcissa’s family, they had cut off Andromeda for simply loving the wrong person.  
  
  
  
And Lucius, had raped and tortured his own son – and hundreds of others, no doubt.  
  
  
  
The world was full of bad people and bad ends. Hadn’t Sirius once told him that they all had both good and bad inside of them? Didn’t that speak volumes that not everything was black and white? No, the world was a canvas of greyscale, of unclear and imprecise events and decisions. He stared at Draco, drinking in the sight of him as if he had been given new eyes, and with one the hand wrapped around Draco’s, he pulled it towards him to rest on his stomach.  
  
  
  
It occurred to him, that Draco was just like everyone else. Human, with feelings that didn’t necessarily make sense, that weren’t exactly ‘right’ or ethical. But Draco meant the world to him, and sometimes that meant understanding that not everything could be as he wished – _simple_. Draco needed him to be with him, not demanding of him.  
  
  
  
“Whatever you decide,” Harry said softly, “I’ll respect your decision.”  
  
  
  
“I just…” Draco started, speaking aloud to them all. “I don't know what we should do really… I'm just not sure.” Draco looked at his mother then, there were a few things he had been needing to ask. Things that had been troubling him. “Mother, I…you and father, have you even been speaking lately? Does he know that you know anything? How has your relationship even been functioning?”  
  
  
  
Draco felt uncomfortable asking, but he had to know. He was certain his father must have been noticing the immense amount of time she had been spending with Severus of late. And that fact alone worried him. He knew his father and his possessiveness. Surely he would have been possessive over his own wife? Yet Draco barely saw them together…  
  
  
  
Narcissa regarded her son closely, her gaze flickering nervously to Severus before an answer formed. “Your father began making his excuses some time ago to escape my company, Draco. I now realise that it is his scheme for Harry and the baby that is drawing him away. Beforehand, I was at his beck and call, never out of his sight…” She trailed off sadly, and Severus's hand squeezed hers.   
  
  
  
“That's no way to live,” Harry murmured, massaging his stomach in slow nervous circles. Narcissa's sad smile did not fade.  
  
  
  
“I am free of it now. I will begin the divorce proceedings on the grounds of his malicious intent and harm to Harry. It should not be a difficult procedure.” She leant forward at Draco’s shocked expression. “Please forgive me,” she pleaded, “Do not think me cruel. I will only proceed with your blessing, Draco.” She caressed his hair lovingly, touching his pale face. “I loved the man I thought he was. But that man, if he ever existed, is long gone. I have no love for his shadow except the son he left me with.”  
  
  
  
Harry smiled, thinking that had his mother lived, she would have loved him as effortlessly and unconditionally Narcissa did Draco.  
  
  
  
“Your mother has been debating on this for some time,” Severus explained since Narcissa seemed to have lost her voice. “Since Lucius allowed you to become messed up in matters of the Dark Lord. He placed you in danger, and from then on, it has been in her mind. This is not a rash decision on her part.”  
  
  
  
Harry glanced between them all, before finally looking to Draco, wondering if he had noticed the growing closeness between Narcissa and the potion’s master…  
  
  
  
“Right, I…” Draco surveyed his mother thoughtfully, considering her words. There was so much to take on board here. “Why…? It feels like everything is all falling apart,” Draco began quietly. “I mean, if that’s what you want I… I can't stop you. It's…this is a little too much information for me to process right now,” Draco said finally.  
  
  
  
Apparently he didn't notice her hand in Severus’s, far too in shock. “When were you going to tell me about this?” Draco asked suddenly. “If I hadn't just asked you, how long would it have been? How long have you felt this way? Before you found out that father fucked me a thousand times over, or after?” Draco spat bitterly. His emotions were muddled, overwhelming him. What was he even saying?  
  
  
  
“I need a drink,” Draco growled. Causing a fierce frown to cross Snape's face.   
  
  
  
“What are you thinking, Draco? Having a drink won't make this go away. You need to be a man and face your fears. Stop running away from everything,” he said warned darkly. Draco, who felt a little put on the spot (and a little embarrassed by that sudden lecture) leapt to his feet at once, his hands slammed down into the table. “I'm not running away! I just–!”   
  
  
  
“Draco…? You…?” Narcissa’s voice faltered in horror. Draco, oblivious, glared at each of them before bellowing angrily, “I'm not some scared child and I'm not running away! You…you don't…!” Narcissa's hands reached for him then. The blond's eyes narrowed. “No!” He said, swatting her hands away. “You don't understand! None of you do, I'm not scared!”  
  
  
  
“Draco,” Harry said this time, calling Draco’s temper down as the blond’s gaze flew to him. Harry looked warily between Draco and Narcissa, reached out to squeeze Draco’s thigh gently. “Snape…he… I don’t think he told your mother anything about – I don’t think she knew about what Lucius did to you. Not until you just…” His words trailed off as he watched the horror dawn on Draco’s face. It had come out of his mouth so quickly that he hadn’t even realised!  
  
  
  
Now he turned his head, in slow motion and saw the tears building in his mother’s soulful eyes, her face contorted with pain. Her hand rose, shaking as it covered her mouth, open with horror. “D-Draco you… I never… T-Tell me – it’s true? What you said is…” She fell forwards, her perfect glamour, her cool outer shell crumbling without Lucius to whip her back into shape when she broke. And now she shattered, tumbling into her knees in front of her son and taking his hands in hers, bringing them to her face as the tears cascaded over her pale cheeks.   
  
  
  
“He – what did he do? What did he…? Why didn’t you tell me? Never – I would never have let this – Oh, Draco…”  
  
  
  
Harry raised his eyes to Severus, not sure of what do to, but the man just gave a curt shake of his head, explaining in that way that this was for Draco to answer, to deal with.  
  
  
  
Draco felt awkward suddenly. With Snape and Harry around, it felt like some sort of public show! Draco preferred a one-on-one confrontation, he had no idea how to react to her with other people listening, unaccustomed to letting his guard down with more than one person at a time. He didn't know what to say, still proud, despite being broken.  He looked down at his mother and frowned. “I'm sorry, I didn't know…”  
  
  
  
“Oh, Draco!” She cried, rushing up to throw her arms around him. His head fell down as she caught him, his shame hidden behind his hair. He realised then, exactly what she knew – _everything,_ his dirtiest, darkest secret. And he wouldn't cry. _He couldn't_. Slowly, he pushed her back to arm’s length look at her. “I'm fine,” he began. Both Harry and Snape looked to one another then. They knew he wasn't fine, not really. He kept turning away from it, kept running, hiding. Obviously it was hurting him still.   
  
  
  
“Draco,” Snape cut in, “You're not…”  
  
  
  
Draco looked at Snape with sharp eyes, cutting his words short. “I'm as fine as I can be,” he assured them, helping his mother to her feet. “I didn't mean to say that, I got…carried away.”  
  
  
  
“My dear boy,” Narcissa breathed, smoothing his hair back thoughtfully. “You must forgive me. Never would I have…never would he have remained it, had I known. My son, my only…”  
  
  
  
Harry fidgeted uncomfortably, feeling sorry for Narcissa and the temporary madness she was spiralling into. Tentatively, he got to his feet, worrying his lip before he chanced speech. “Draco is alright, Mrs– _Narcissa_. He's alright. I…I won't let anything hurt him, not ever again. And your husband can go to Azkaban where he belongs. Don't…” He paused for a moment, faltering when he realised they were all looking at him. “Don't let the vile things he did hurt you anymore, don't let him ruin today, or any other day. Because then he has won.”  
  
  
  
Draco smiled. Harry always did say the most out of character things at the oddest of times, this one thing however, he was pleased to hear. He moved his hand to Harry’s shoulder suddenly and leant towards him. “That’s right,” he said, placing a kiss on his husband’s forehead. For a moment, he had been so caught up in conversation he had forgotten it was Christmas. “Harry is right, come on, let’s enjoy this meal,” Draco said, watching his mother’s last tears fall to her napkin below. She forced a smile. “Mother, we…we will talk about it, you…” Draco looked down to the tablecloth awkwardly. “You deserve to know, but…but not today.”  
  
  
  
The fine line of Narcissa’s mouth moved soundlessly for a moment, but then Severus’s hand touched her shoulder again and Harry swore he watched the tension ease from the woman’s body. The relationship between them seemed a lot more complex and _developed_ than he’d first noticed. To have just one touch ease her, even after the news she had just…  
  
  
  
Harry looked to Draco, but there was simply a softness in those eyes beyond the cloud of troubles they had so recently spoken of. Draco either didn’t notice, or he did, and was fine with it. It was all very odd, but Draco’s thoughts seemed to be lingering in the bad part of the conversation and so Harry leant forward, scooping some ice cream up with his spoon and offering it to Draco’s lips.  
  
  
  
Across the table, Narcissa kept her head down with a small, needless cough while Snape refilled his goblet – _again_. Meanwhile, Draco’s cheeks flushed. Harry smiled; glad his diversionary tactic had worked. They’d had such a nice day so far…  
  
  
  
“Harry,” Draco groaned as he mouthed the ice cream, the cool substance hitting his somewhat dry tongue. His eyes shifted away as he ran his tongue over his lips. Harry just chuckled. Placing his napkin down on the table, Draco called Eric for another batch of firewhisky. Harry gave him a knowing look; he was already on his third. “What? Aren't I allowed to have a drink on Christmas?”  
  
  
  
“Hmm, if I’m not allowed I don’t see why you should be,” Harry mumbled, having had quite the taste for the warmth of that particular drink. He leant back, full of ice cream and rubbed his stomach slowly to remind himself why he was sipping at his second glass of pumpkin juice. He hiccupped into his goblet, remembering the small sips of alcohol he’d been allowed earlier.   
  
  
  
“Just don’t get wasted and render yourself useless,” Harry murmured quietly.   
  
  
  
Draco laughed. “Hmm, but wouldn’t it be easier to take me if I were wasted?” Draco asked, causing his mother and Snape to look at him suddenly. Harry almost choked.   
  
  
  
“Heh.” Severus lowered his head, suggesting, “Maybe you already have had enough, Draco.” Though deep down, Narcissa and Snape were more than just amused, they were thrilled. Draco had been able to let himself go. Statements like that; they showed just how different he was now. How comfortable he was with himself.  
  
  
  
“Draco,” Narcissa started. “I… Severus and I were going to take as drink in the library,” she announced, diverting from what she was about to say about how proud she was. Some things, she decided, were best left unsaid.  
  
  
  
“Yes!” Harry said quickly, getting to his feet and plucking a handful of the after-dinner chocolate mints from the table, nibbling a corner of one. “Draco owes me a present.”  
  
  
  
“Indeed?” Severus said, rising with Narcissa and passing Harry a knowing look. “Your new husband caught on quickly how you enjoy presents then?”  
  
  
  
Narcissa smiled, the unease that lingered on her face at the revelation concerning Lucius and Draco still there, but abating somewhat. She would come to terms with it eventually, right now Draco wanted to forget it and enjoy his first decent Christmas since… _ever_.  
  
  
  
“Harry, you seem to reclaim a little… _childhood innocence_ as it were when presented with gifts,” Narcissa noted as Snape pulled her chair out for her to stand, tucking it back in afterwards. Harry shrugged, a little sheepish, trying _not_ to notice Draco smirking at him out of the corner of his eye.  
  
  
  
“Reliving the Christmases I never got, I suppose. I think it’s great when someone give me a present – whatever it is. And the more they care about me the more exciting the gift is.”  
  
  
  
That did explain why he was so thrilled with his token Weasley jumper and cakes…  
  
  
  
Draco laughed. “Thanks for dinner,” he said, smiling at his mother, who he knew had put much thought into it. His mother couldn’t help but smile back at him.  
  
  
  
As they departed, Draco turned to Harry, who was pretty much jumping down the hall in excitement. “I could tease you some more and wait until just before midnight to give you your gift, but I think that would be cruel to the present,” Draco mused, causing Harry to look at him in confusion. “Come on, this way,” Draco said, walking through the hall and up the stairs to their suite. Harry had to admit. If this were _just_ sex, he would kill him.  
  
  
  
Harry felt his stomach flutter with excitement, excitement that he tried to quash. If he got his hopes up, he was sure he’d be let down. He tried to keep it from his face even, but Draco’s lingering smirk told him that his eagerness was crystal clear. He flicked his eyes to the blond as he opened the door for him, stepping into their bedroom. Sex with Draco was…well _amazing,_ every time, without fail, but he had to confess, he had hoped for something a little more… _thoughtful,_ something that wasn’t involving their insatiable desires.  
  
  
  
“On the bed with you,” Draco insisted and the hope in Harry’s stomach plummeted. He tried not to feel disappointed, it would still be amazing, the touching, the intimacy, he loved the closeness. He had just thought that maybe…  
  
  
  
 _I thought he was going to give me something just to make me smile, something beyond sex,_ he realised.  
  
  
  
“Right,” Harry said, trying to sound casual as he perched on the end, shimmying backwards so he was sitting, cross-legged in the centre. “How do you want me?”  
  
  
  
“With your eyes closed – and not peaking,” Draco explained and Harry gave him a fleeting frown, before complying and closing his eyes tight. He rested his hands lamely in his lap, feeling a bit awkward and apprehensive of what was to come. What game was Draco playing at?  
  
  
  
“What are you up to?” Harry asked, his eyes still shut, but his only answer was a gentle brush of those knuckles over the hair at his temple, before he heard the quiet rustling of Draco moving away from him – towards the loo?   
  
  
  
A few moments passed in silence, but he kept his eyes closed, even as he felt something warm suddenly brush up over his cheek.   
  
  
  
“You can open your eyes,” Draco said, placing the little life in front of his husband on the bed. “Merry Christmas!” Draco was beaming as Harry gazed at the little, pure-black kitten sitting on the bed below him.  
  
  
  
Harry’s eyes widened, gaze flitting from Draco to his…his _Christmas present._ Rendered speechless, he sat there, frozen with sheer shock. He had been sure, _so sure_ that Draco would just…  
  
  
  
Suddenly, the feel of soft, silky fur brushing his hand where it lay in his lap startled him from his surprise and he flushed a little, wondering how much Draco had spent on his ‘gift’. “Draco…? It’s…no, _she_? She’s mine?” He asked, wanting to make sure he wasn’t misinterpreting the gesture. Just like he hadn’t been able to believe Hedwig was really his when Hagrid had bought her for him. He smiled at the memory of his first friend and petted the roguish kitten’s tiny ears softly, resulting in the creature rolling onto it’s back to playfully tackle his hand.  
  
  
  
“I…I don’t know what to say,” Harry murmured as he ran his fingers through the jet-black fur, the smile at his lips actually hurting his cheeks now. “This is just really…” He couldn’t find words. Usually in life, people had surprised him, but it had rarely been for the better. Meeting Draco’s eyes, he tried to find the right thing to say. “Thank you,” he settled on, but it hardly seemed adequate – and he was still smiling, he felt like a complete idiot. “My presents seem crap now,” he laughed, the fingers of the hand not teasing the new kitten crawling across the bedspread to weave between Draco’s.  
  
  
  
“Just look after her,” Draco said reaching around to get something else. “And then, there’s this,” he said, pulling out a small parcel from behind his back and lobbing it at Harry. Harry tore the paper off at once, revealing a thick leather collar. But it seemed far too large for his _present_. Draco leant close and whispered tauntingly in his ear, “This collar…it’s for you…”  
  
  
  
Harry’s cheeks coloured cherry-red and he hesitantly stared up at Draco from under his lashes. “Well, it does look too big for the kitten,” he mused, his voice cracking a little with embarrassment at the suggestion he wear a collar. He stared at it a moment longer as the kitten made a beeline for the cushions and pounced, occupying herself with them for a moment. And Harry cleared his throat in an attempt to find his voice, kneeling up on all fours to reach over and place a kiss on Draco’s cheek.  
  
  
  
“Thank you,” he breathed, drawing back a hairsbreadth to consider those glistening grey eyes. “I…I like my gifts they’re…I never thought you’d put so much thought into making me happy over something as silly as Christmas.” He felt a little silly, admittedly, but Draco was smiling again, and that eased him somewhat, the embarrassment at the collar still remaining.  
  
  
  
Draco took the collar then, seizing the opportunity while Harry was on all fours. “So, is my pet going to wear his collar for me?” He asked, holding the collar up. Harry moved a little nearer, blushing as Draco buckled up his second gift around his slender throat. “I thought that this way, we can both have a pet, although, I'd advise you not to fuck yours,” he joked. Harry was now a ripe scarlet colour.   
  
  
  
“You leave my cat out of this!” Harry smirked uncertainly, looking back to see the creature dozing off on the corner of the bed, almost lost amongst the lush cushions. Turning back to Draco, he peered up at him apprehensively. “What games do you have in mind?” He tried awkwardly, that telltale heat rising in his belly at the way Draco was looking at him. Like a cat looked at cream – so to speak. “Are you going to feed your…pussy?” He watched Draco’s eyes flare with hunger, and the blond leant over him a little, shadowing Harry the way that made a tingle run up his spine and his head jerk to the side with aroused-embarrassment.  
  
  
  
“Hmm,” Draco purred, leaning in to whisper huskily in that flushed ear. “I'm going to do more than feed my _pussy_ … I'm going to pet him, and stroke him, and…” Draco’s tone lowered even more this time, barely audible as he added, “And fuck him.” He raised his hand to caress the nape of Harry’s neck tenderly, the other sliding downwards. “Hmmm,” Draco groaned, palming the hardening heat hard.  
  
  
  
Harry’s body arched subtly into Draco’s warmth, a low, shuddering gasp leaving his parted lips. He still felt sensitive from earlier. “Ahh!” He cried out sharply as Draco’s hand smoothed between his cleft, pressing the plug still buried between his cheeks a little more. It had been dormant since Harry had fled dinner but it was most certainly there still. Harry’s hands flew up to grasp those forearms to steady himself. He had almost forgotten it was _there_!  
  
  
  
“Y-You’re…you’re always hungry for more of me, hmm?” He panted, grinding into the blond’s hand.  
  
  
  
Draco shuddered at those words; it was like they drove him crazy. “Hmm, and you get off knowing that, don't you?” He teased and Harry smiled. “I bet underneath these trousers, your arse is drenched, hungrily sucking this little plug in as though it were me…am I right?”  
  
  
  
Harry tensed and pulled Draco’s collar suddenly, roughly. The blond fell forwards, his lips crashing into Harry’s. It was amazing; it always had been with Harry. “Merlin…so… _hot_!” Draco gasped, his eyes reflecting the want shining in Harry’s emerald gaze. “I…bloody hell; I always want you, all the time. Every moment. I just…” Draco’s hands rushed over Harry’s sensitive hips, madly caressing them. “I want you,” the blond whispered. “All of you.”  
  
  
  
“Take me,” Harry offered, as if it was the solution to all of Draco’s problems and for the moment, it was. He gave a cursory glance back to the sleepy kitten and wondered if skidding around in the bathroom had tired her out already. He tugged his shirt off over his head hastily, vaguely registering Draco’s soft chuckle at his eagerness. Clad only in his briefs and the collar around his neck, Harry leant across the bed, seizing Draco’s shirt roughly and tugging his mouth to his own hungry lips.   
  
  
  
A low groan left his mouth along with his tongue as it slid into Draco, smoothing along the tip of his own questing tongue. “You taste good,” he panted into him, hand tightening where it gripped his shirt, the other lifting up to muss up that hair he loved so much. “Y-You – you’re like a _god_ you’re so perfect!”  
  
  
  
Draco shivered, those words rippling through his pure white skin. “I'm not perfect,” he choked, doing what was rarely done and dropping his arrogant façade. “I'm anything but. But I am…happy, happy you think so.” It would have been too easy to agree with that same smug attitude that _made_ him. But in truth, he was flawed, what person wasn't? But he couldn’t help but feel warm and feather-light inside. For only when you were in love, did you see a person’s flaws, and think them perfect in spite of them. Draco felt the same about Harry.   
  
  
  
“Even though you're a scrawny geek and you whinge about everything, you're pretty perfect too,” he breathed, licking around the rim of Harry’s ear as he whispered lowly, “So hot, and so…so amazing!”  
  
  
  
“I’m getting less scrawny thanks to you,” Harry teased lightly, arching his neck to give Draco access. His mouth moved in quiet gasps as Draco worried the subtle line of his pulse, suckling and nipping just hard enough to make him arch again. He gripped Draco’s hair tight then, stilling his head as he dipped his own to meet those shining eyes. “I’ll always be your scrawny Harry Potter won’t I?” He asked huskily, his lips quirking into a smile as he caressed the hard plains of Draco’s pectorals through his shirt.  
  
  
  
“Yes,” Draco agreed, his mind spiralling as his mouth hovered over Harry’s. “Kiss me,” he groaned, waiting for Harry to span the gap between them and move his lips against him. “Please…just…I want you to kiss me.” Harry shifted and his lips brushed over Draco’s in answer, smoothly, wetly as their tongues collided. “That’s it…kiss…” Draco melted then, into the one he loved, the one who called him perfect, the one who once hated him, and said he would never love him. It was like magic. No. _Better!_  
  
  
  
Draco’s hand ran up under Harry’s shirt to touch the bump, caressing it carefully for a moment before his fingers trailed upwards to one of the already erect, tender nubs. “Hmm, your nipple is all hot,” he gasped, a string of saliva connecting their mouths.  
  
  
  
Harry nodded, moaning senselessly, biting Draco’s lower lip gently before trailing his kiss-bruised lips over the curve of the blond’s chin, grazing his jaw with his teeth, savouring every inch of him. “Hmm, how was your day, dear?” He breathed, the negative aspects of the day flooding away with every breath that left his lungs. He felt the tension leave his husband, and massaged the back of his neck gently as he swiped his tongue over the delicate shell of his ear, chasing the awfulness away.  
  
  
  
He gave a small laugh as he remembered how this had all begun so badly and stroked the blond hair at Draco’s neck lovingly. “I’m so glad Professor Snape is an interfering bastard,” he smirked, nipping his ear gently, “I’m so glad I’m married to you, that I’m yours.”  
  
  
  
Draco flushed at Harry’s statement. He had been glad too. What more could he ever ask for than what he had right here? “I'm so very glad to,” he hummed, toying gently with the shining silver ring through Harry’s nipple. He grinned then, devilishly. “Hmm, you know, cock piercing is quite popular.” Harry’s eyes widened frightfully for a moment and Draco’s hand drew away. “Relax. I was joking.” But he feared that had already spoilt the mood. “You know that I love you, don't you?” Draco asked, only just realising how easily it rolled off his tongue. Harry seemed to nod at him regardless and so he continued to moved over him.  
  
  
  
He leant down, rucking up Harry’s shirt and slowly placed a trail of fleeting butterfly kisses over his stomach. He felt Harry shudder blissfully and grinned laying a longer kiss over the swollen bulge. “How's my little girl doing?” He tried, addressing her, not Harry, but receiving no movement from her. “You're sleeping?”  
  
  
  
Harry shifted his lower body agitatedly. His cock was blistering, swollen and hard and Draco was talking to his stomach?! Draco clicked on and his eyes narrowed, seeing the frustration radiating from Harry he continued to talk in a low, purring voice. But not to him, but to his belly. He could practically feel that organ jerking below his chin.  
  
  
  
“She’s asleep, she can’t hear you – it’s my turn now,” Harry murmured a little terse with sexual frustration. He shivered as he felt the backs of Draco’s knuckles caress the sides of his stomach, glaring down at Draco insistently, his prick hard and painful in the confines of his trousers. He felt the bastard smirk against his skin, while he liked that Draco talked to her, (especially with that look on his face, that tone to his voice) he could not help but feel a little… _jealous._  
  
  
  
“Don’t start a game you cannot finish, Draco Malfoy,” Harry warned huskily, his voice heated with frustration and desire. He would have reached for himself, but Draco was conveniently sprawled between his thighs – in the way of the path of any masturbating intentions. Harry wanted to turn his head to the sheets and cry out in annoyance, but he fixed Draco with a dark glare instead, not surrendering so easily. “Touch me,” he insisted through clenched teeth.  
  
  
  
“I think someone has a green monster on their shoulder called jealousy?” Draco teased, and Harry growled in retaliation. “What’s that baby, you think so too? She agrees with me,” Draco said with a slight giggle. Harry’s concealed cock arched into him then, his hot heat radiating through his clothes, and that plug inside his arse throbbed briefly. Harry jerked. “Hmm,” Draco thought, reaching into his pocket for his wand and urging the vibration up to full.  
  
  
  
Harry moved suddenly, spasmodically as that thing inside him buzzed furiously, rippling through his walls, forcing a cry of desperation past his lips. “I love it when you're mad for me, makes me so hard, so wet with pre-cum. I could just bend you over right now and fuck you into oblivion. But I'm _much_ more of a tease than that, Harry, and if you want my hand on your throbbing prick you’ll have to do as I tell you.”  
  
  
  
Snarling senselessly in response, Harry just nodded, seeing the game that was being played now. The collar – it spoke volumes of what game Draco wanted to play tonight, but his body was already quivering hungrily, still sensitive from their earlier touches. His cheeks coloured in fury at Draco catching him out, at recognising his jealousy. Finally, he gave his answer in the form of another curt nod.  
  
  
  
“You cock-tease,” he grumbled seeing the kitten give him a curious, sleepy look out of the corner of his eye, before she buried herself further between the cushions. Her little black tail was the only visible thing. He grunted, remembering what Draco had said now. _His pussy, he called me_ , he thought, the memory of his voice forcing his eyes closed with desire. He swallowed hard to feel the pressure of the leather on his adam’s apple a little more. It made his throat tingle and he breathed out shakily.   
  
  
  
“So my _kitten_ , I want you to unzip your trousers… _slowly_ ,” Harry blushed darker, but moved his hand down right away to the zip and began undoing it. Draco’s face darkened with lust and he gasped at the image, at those wide, longing eyes. “Now,” he continued in a low husky tone that sent shivers over Harry’s spine. “Now I want you to stroke around your thighs, occasionally brush over your cock, tease your skin with feather-light touches…”  
  
  
  
Harry closed his eyes for a moment to recover himself as Draco slid back a little to watch the show. Slowly, kicking his trousers off hastily, Harry’s hands moved down, ghosting over his milky thighs and caressing the hot insides. He gasped, his legs tensing but he didn’t stop, even though it was driving him mad. Opening his eyes then, he locked gazes with Draco, bringing the very tips of his fingers up to tease the skin just above his briefs.   
  
  
  
Seeing Draco’s eyes darken with arousal, Harry smirked deviously, jerking a little when his fingers teased the line of his cock before dipping down to touch his thighs again. “You shouldn’t tease your pets, it makes them bad tempered,” Harry breathed, punctuating his words with his best attempt at a low purr. He saw Draco’s cock form a hard bulge in his own trousers.  
  
  
  
“You cocky git!” Draco growled, his tone loving. “Touch every inch of your perfect body for me, _please_.” He watched Harry’s eyes grow darker as he reached inside for his cock. Draco almost froze when it was revealed from beneath the material and his jaw fell open hungrily when Harry began to tug on it. “Bloody hell, don't stop that,” he demanded, reaching for his own arousal while watching Harry. His hand dropped to his trousers and shoved them down hastily.  
  
  
  
Reaching up with his free hand, Harry plucked his pierced nipple gently, rolling it between his fingers and groaning wantonly. He wriggled until his briefs fell to his knees and he spread his legs, strumming the delicate line of pink flesh leading down from his cock-head. He hissed at the delicious sensations, fidgeting, spreading his legs wider to give Draco a better view. His hand dipped as he gave his whole length long, languid strokes, groaning unrestrainedly. It felt so good his skin was melting.  
  
  
  
“Hmm, yes, watch me,” Harry panted, the embarrassment at being seen in such a state lighting a fire in his veins. “Are you watching me, Mr Malfoy? What do I look like right now?” He stroked his nipple again, never tearing his eyes away from Draco’s face.  
  
  
  
“Hot…you look so hot! Merlin, keep touching yourself, _please_.” Draco’s hand unconsciously disappeared in his underwear and fumbled inside. “I'll touch mine too while you watch me?” Draco suggested, raising an eyebrow playfully. Harry’s eyes were fixed on him, as his were on Harry. He shoved his boxers down a little, pulling out his own pink, throbbing organ. The sight of Harry’s eyes widening made Draco grin and squeeze himself purposefully in slow, rhythmic jerks that fell in time with Harry’s.  
  
  
  
“You look so fit,” Harry murmured, his voice and breath heightening as the jerking motions over his cock hastened. “Your cock looks so nice.” He squeezed himself harder at the sight of Draco touching himself – touching himself because of what he, Harry was doing in front of him. He made the purring sound again, kicking his trousers off at last, along with his briefs to give Draco a view of his body unhindered.   
  
  
  
He gave him a sheepish smirk, releasing his sensitive nipple in favour of reaching between his legs and twisting the plug buried between his cheeks. He groaned as he moved it, twisting it inside him. He thanked magic for preserving the slickness inside him and clenched around the still lightly vibrating toy. Grabbing the end, he tugged it out a few inches, before sliding it back in. He felt his inner muscles stretch and his mouth opened in a silent gasp.   
  
  
  
“W-Watch me…watch me fuck myself with this toy!” He whispered.  
  
  
  
Draco’s eyes were fixed on Harry and what he was doing. He was hot, panting, and delirious with need just from watching, every tingle and shiver that rippled through Harry’s skin rising through his own in answer. He pumped his hand over the full length of his cock, groaning as he watched a sheen of sweat break out over that delectable flesh. “Hmm, fuck yourself for me,” he gasped. Harry’s hole was so tight and slick around that plug, the blond could actually see his arse sucking it back in greedily every time. “Hmm, say my name. Harry. Say…say my name.”  
  
  
  
Harry smiled, dizzy with pleasure at him. “Hn, Draco,” he breathed, pushing the toy in and out of his eager, clenching hole. “So nice. Can you see it stretching my little hole? See me fuck it? You want to be in here, don’t you?” Why was it that arousal always made him more confident? He moaned as he stroked his cock faster, a few droplets of pre-emission oozing from the tip onto his belly. He swore it _sizzled_ when it met his heated skin.  
  
  
  
“Hmm, touch me, touch me please, I can’t stand it! I need – need you!” When the only answer he got of Draco was a husky laugh, he glanced down to where those pale fingers were pumping Draco’s hardness in his boxers. He slid his leg down, sliding his foot over the desperate bulge in Draco’s hand. He felt Draco stiffen at the touch.  
  
  
  
Draco swatted the foot away immediately, overwhelmed by the sudden shudders coursing through him as a result from the contact. “Hmm, you need the contact?” He teased, watching Harry tense up now. “You have to earn it, _kitten_ …” Draco purred. “Maybe I should take you out for walk, hmm? Would the kitty slut like that? To be dragged around on all fours?” Draco joked. Even if he wanted to do such a thing, Harry’s stomach would prevent him from that, they could still be adventurous but they had to be careful at the same time. “Or would you like some milk from your master’s cock?”  
  
  
  
Harry sat up immediately, his green eyes almost obsidian with ecstasy and he crawled towards Draco, reluctantly releasing his own erection in favour of stroking Draco’s hardness through the cloth. “Hmm,” he moaned softly, the plug still vibrating in his tight chute, making his hips spasm with pleasure. Draco’s free hand smoothed over the collar at his throat, reminding him of its presence and Harry felt another wave of heat flood to his aching erection.   
  
  
  
Merlin help him, he _liked_ this!  
  
  
  
“Hnn, give your pussycat some of your cream?” He panted lightly, _hungrily._  
  
  
  
“Hmm,” Draco groaned. He had wanted to tease him, prolong the moment but he couldn’t hold back anymore. “F-Fine,” he murmured, pushing his boxers down further, grabbing the base of his erection and smacking his husband’s cheek with it. “Suck it,” he hissed. “Suck it, kitty boy, and if you do it well enough you’ll get your creamy, milky dessert!” At that, Harry leant in at once and before he’d even touched his lips to it, Draco was shuddering for the delicious, steamy breath greeting the oozing slit. “F-Fuck!” He gasped, jerking up towards that mouth, pressing his cock against those teasing lips. “So good, don't tease me!”  
  
  
  
Harry smirked, seizing Draco at his base and slapping his swollen, leaking head against his lips. He stuck his tongue out to swipe over the slit, pressing in with the tip until Draco hissed out his pleasure. “Like that, baby?” Harry said huskily, circling his just slightly parted lips with the pink tip of Draco’s hardness. He couldn’t help but notice the way the blond’s body tightened when he called him that. “You like this _kitty boy_ tormenting your cock?”  
  
  
  
He reached between those legs to rub his full balls gently, still worrying the tip of his cock with his moist lips.   
  
  
  
“Bloody _hell_ do I like it!” Draco gasped, knotting his fingers in Harry’s hair and pulling him closer. “Dribble on it, on the tip of my cock, over my slit?” Draco begged. Harry obeyed swiftly, letting a thin globule of saliva drizzle over the sensitive, pink head. Draco’s head lolled on his shoulders then, a groan tearing past his lops as Harry lashed at the damp trail, manipulating it into the moist slit with his tongue. “Take it,” Draco demanded huskily, “all of it please? Suck it!”  
  
  
  
Harry paused for a moment, tugging Draco’s trousers down to his knees along with his boxers so that he could reach him better. He saw his cock jump up, pulsing with need and he grasped it again firmly, stroking the shaft torturously slow as he sucked his fingers into his mouth.  
  
  
  
Hearing Draco make a noise of protest and feeling him push his cock into Harry’s cheek insistently, Harry smirked around his fingers. He gave them a final lick, making sure Draco saw the way his tongue worked around the tips as they left his mouth. Harry reached below to trace the neglected, pink ring of Draco’s hole with the slick digits. Holding that gaze then, Harry murmured, “Yes, Master,” before opening his mouth and swallowing Draco’s thickness greedily, slurping at it as it encountered his tongue. He heard Draco groan.  
  
  
  
“Ahh-ah, shit!” He cried out, the sweet feel of Harry’s talented tongue sliding over him making his body sway in the fog of bliss. Those fingers probing at his tense hole, he almost wriggled onto them himself as burning hot need rose up inside him. “Enter me. Stick your fingers in me!” Draco insisted, his cheeks aflame with embarrassment, but he didn't care anymore. It felt too good. He wanted more. “Please, _anything,_ just… Ah, Merlin’s balls! Hmm, that’s it, suck me. More tongue…yes…!”  
  
  
  
Harry shifted a little, tilting his head to take Draco deep into his throat, lapping at the hot flesh with his tongue. Drool slipped through his lips around his mouthful, down his chin and he sucked hungrily, like a starved man. He pushed his middle finger in, the hot, tight flesh clenching around his slick finger. Curling the digit, he heard a low groan leave those lips and he tortured the sensitive place within until Draco’s hips were dancing, inadvertently fucking his mouth.  
  
  
  
“Hmm, that’s it baby,” he hummed almost incoherently around his mouthful, slurping noisily as he slid a second digit into Draco’s body, fingering his needy, tight hole.   
  
  
  
“Ahh! Hmnnn…good… _good_!” Draco growled, fisting Harry’s dark locks roughly. “Harry, more, _more_ , I need more of you.” Greedy and insatiable as ever, Draco thrust forward, deep into Harry’s throat, invading him and opening to those fingers at the same time. “Suck me, fuck me, please! It's so…that’s…!” Overwhelmed and wanting more of that wicked tongue, Draco pulled out from Harry’s mouth and crawled across the bed, arching his backside in the air.   
  
  
  
“Please…rim me?”  
  
  
  
Harry stared at him a moment, as if not believing the offering were true, but when he did, he all-but pounced on him. He shot forwards, his hands on Draco’s hips, tickling him there gently as he used the heels of his palms to massage his cheeks at the same time. His gaze roved that pale, perfect backside and he let a quiet sound of approval through his lips. “Look at that nice bum,” he said, spreading his cheeks to view the pink, (and as ever) clean-shaven valley between. He swore he felt his balls jerk up into his cock at the way that little tight place winked at him.  
  
  
  
He shifted back onto his knees, spreading Draco’s legs wider so that he could see his big prick hanging down between his thighs. “I could just eat you up,” he breathed over his orifice, pulling his cheeks as far apart as he could, stretching that pink place taut and vulnerable for his tongue.  
  
  
  
“Hnn, you’re just _quivering_ down here, baby,” he said and Draco’s body arched, the blond pushing his arse back into Harry’s face. Harry smirked, dipping his head so that his lips brushed his destination as he spoke. “You like it when I call you that, don’t you?” He asked, “You want me to eat you up down here?”  
  
  
  
Draco snarled in a mixture of sexual frustration and need. “Yes, call me it again; eat me while you say it.” Harry’s breath was steaming over his skin again and Draco pressed his cheek into the bed, spreading his legs as far as they would go. Draco had never wanted anything so much. What was wrong with him? Was losing it? Maybe he should be the one wearing the collar! His pride swelled in distaste at that idea. He didn’t mind surrendering to Harry a little, but he preferred to top, preferred to dominate and he was sure Harry agreed with him.   
  
  
  
“Come on, pussy boy,” Draco murmured huskily, the pleading surrender leaving his voice as the arrogance returned. “Show me…show me what you've got!”  
  
  
  
Harry smirked, drawing back only for a minute when he spied the rich twine that held the curtains back on the four-poster. He plucked it off easily; glad it was a fair length when he tied one end to the ring of his collar, pressing the other end into Draco’s hand. “Make me,” he whispered against his ring, mouthing the hot place softly. Draco stiffened, then jerked and cried out under his mouth. Then, Harry pressed his tongue into the twitching hole, lapping at him as if he were the most delicious treat and Draco’s hand that held the makeshift leash tensed, tugging Harry forward into his arse.  
  
  
  
“Holy shit!” Draco exhaled sharply. He felt his body overheat, felt sweat roll over his skin, but still he wanted more. His cock was pulsing where it hung between his legs and so he answered the unbearable throbbing with a tug, while using the leash to guide Harry’s eager mouth.  
  
  
  
“Hmm,” Harry hummed, deep in his throat, letting the vibrations carry through the skin he sucked at so hungrily. He pressed his tongue in deeper, it was a strain but he didn’t care and he mouthed the flesh that closed around his slick appendage. Saliva dribbled down his crack, soaking his balls and Harry reached up to roll them in his hand, making Draco rock back and forth between his mouth and hand. Every now and then, he’d tug hard on the leash and Harry was crushed against his body.  
  
  
  
The dark-haired boy groaned at the feel of being controlled and vulnerable like this. “Hmm, tug it, lead your little pussy by his leash,” Harry groaned throatily, eating his husband’s entrance ravenously.  
  
  
  
Draco couldn't take it anymore. He reached back and seized Harry’s wrists, slamming him onto his back. He was on him in seconds, pressing his legs open and settling between them, a dark glint in his eye. “Hmm, your turn, kitten,” he teased. Every time those rosy cheeks of Harry’s flushed darker, Draco felt his cock jerk, longing for more of him. Why was his husband such a masochistic pervert? And why did Draco _enjoy it_ so much? Every inch of him was on fire at Harry’s submission, at any flicker of lingering innocence.  
  
  
  
“Hmm, give me some cock, Harry, put your cock in my mouth?”  
  
  
  
Harry gasped at his tone and reached down clumsily for his own neglected cock, smearing the pre-cum gathered at the tip over Draco’s lips. He groaned at the sight, turning his head away. A sharp jerk on his _leash_ tugged his gaze back to Draco, to where that mouth, arched in a devilish smirk wrapped around his throbbing prick. “Hnn,” Harry whined, wanting more, needing more, reaching down to twist the toy in his arse again. “I love – love it when you look at me like that,” he said hazily, “You – you make me feel like – like I’m the most beautiful thing in the world.”  
  
  
  
Draco’s mouth lowered to the base then, his nose pressing into the dark, short curls there (the only hair that Harry left on his body besides that on his head nowadays). Harry cried out when he felt his erection hit the back of Draco’s throat. His hand flew to grasp that silky blond hair and the pressure the tugging of that leash gave around his throat only heightened the pleasure. “Mmm, I like this – like you dominating me,” he breathed out sheepishly. “I – I love surrendering to you…”  
  
  
  
Draco smiled. “You are the most beautiful thing in the world, Harry, well, besides myself, of course.” He felt a slight rap on his head just then in punishment, but Harry pressed his cock against his lips regardless. “You like it when I suck you, my little kitty?” Draco teased. “Maybe I should charm a nice pair of cat ears on you and a tail to go with your new collar? And then a little bell for your cock?” Harry’s breaths had become deeper now, heavier and Draco beamed devilishly, running his fingers briskly over his torso in torturous tickles.  
  
  
  
Harry shuddered at the images, his hips rising and falling manically, humping Draco’s mouth. “Oh, please – _please_ , I want it, want you to humiliate me, want you to make me yours, your pet – I want to give into you. I want you to make me cum just from the mortification!” He needed this, so badly, as badly as breathing. All that time of people looking up to him, expecting things of him he had been far too young to undertake, all the horrid, careless, selfish things he had been forced to do…  
  
  
  
The Wizarding world had left a boy to take someone’s life, to save them, to kill the darkest wizard since Grindelwald. His whole life he had been expected to survive, somehow, to be strong. He didn’t have to be strong for Draco, he could surrender, he could give in. His fingers tightened in Draco’s hair and he massaged his head gently, even as he pressed up frantically into that mouth.  
  
  
  
“Love it when you suck me, when you touch me…need you. Need more…!”  
  
  
  
“Hmm, my sexy kitten. You like me humiliating. You little slut, you like it when I suck your cock, tease it, nibble it….” Draco reached his hand over the side of his cheek and Harry leant into it for a moment. “Hmm, purr for me, Harry, purr.” Harry attempted to make the sound in the back of his throat but failed, only leaving Draco to laugh against his purpled, pulsing prick. “That was hardly a purr, pussy boy, come on, purr for me and I'll let you have a finger inside you.”  
  
  
  
Harry made a frustrated sound in his throat, spreading his thighs wider and holding them up, hoping to entice him. But Draco just shook his head, reaching down to tug the toy out of his arse a little way, making him shake with sensation. That devious hand gave it a cruel twist and Harry jerked, his head still held up by the leash.   
  
  
  
He tried for the purring sound again but couldn’t manage it with his throat closed up in bliss. Impatient, Draco gave the plug another sharp twist before yanking it from his sloppy, gaping hole, wrenching a mewling sound from his kiss-bruised lips. He felt Draco’s chuckle against his prick. “That wasn’t the sound I asked for,” Draco said in mock punishment, the very tip of his finger tracing Harry’s open, hungry entrance.  
  
  
  
Harry growled in annoyance, he felt empty; he needed to be filled again with something… _else_. With Draco, to the brim. Finally, he managed out a low, quiet purring sound and Draco hummed his pleasure at the sound.  
  
  
  
“Hmm, what would you like here instead?” Draco teased. Harry’s lips parted to answer, and of course he was about to say his cock, but before he could speak those words, Draco had already reached there. “My cock, hmm? Inside you? If you want my cock, you have to show me just how much. Fuck your hole. Stick your fingers inside yourself.” Harry moved his hand down at once, forcing two fingers deep inside while Draco continued to lick across the head of his cock.  
  
  
  
Pushing his cock deeper into that mouth, Harry spread himself open with his fingers, his slick, pink insides yielding easily, even as he slid a third finger inside. Then a fourth. It was an awkward angle but it was worth it. He made the purring sound again and Draco’s hand reached up to molest his pierced bud in reward, his mouth never leaving his weeping prick.   
  
  
  
“Hmmm!” Harry managed out, eyes glazed over with bliss. “I love being stretched open – you showed me that,” he told him, dirty, slushy noises sounding as he pounded his own arse frantically. His head whipped to the side and he cried out into the sheets, but jumped when the leash was tugged. This time, however, he felt a tightness around the base of his cock and when he looked down, he saw that Draco had wrapped it around his penis.   
  
  
  
“Hnn, do your worst, Mr Malfoy,” Harry murmured invitingly, “Give me a Christmas I won’t forget.”  
  
  
  
With that, Draco pushed Harry’s legs back firmly, pressing them into his chest as far as they would go. He double-looped the leash around Harry’s organ, effectively tugging I backwards and lifting his balls so that the perfect, pink hole was visible beneath. And Harry’s fingers frantically pounding it. “Remove your fingers and spread your legs as wide as you can,” Draco told him with a devious grin. “I'm about to put the star on the tree…”  
  
  
  
Shuddering at the implications, Harry opened himself wide, holding Draco’s gaze and wanting him so badly it _hurt_. “Hmm, yes,” he insisted desperately, “Yes, yes please, now! I can’t take it!” Every little squirm, every wriggle tugged on his bound cock and he let out the keening whine sound that made Draco smirk broadly, seeing the blond’s own erection jerk at the noise.  
  
  
  
“Come on, show me who my husband is – show me how much I need you.”  
  
  
  
“You're so hot when you want something, Harry,” Draco gasped, grinding his cock up along the smooth skin of Harry’s bum crack, his foreskin was pushed back as he rubbed along it, his swollen helmet teasing over the place he was about to enter. “You're such a wanton slut.” Harry lifted his legs higher at those words, proving them true and Draco grasped his cock in his hand, slapping the head against Harry’s arsehole. “You're melting under me, aren’t you? Clenching around my tip,” he gasped as he pushed the tip in through the gaping ring.  
  
  
  
“Move on me,” Draco demanded huskily, his fingers dancing over Harry’s hips as he held him. “M-Move on me, _please_!” He fisted Harry’s neglected cock with one hand, the other still holding his hip. “Move over my cock.”  
  
  
  
Harry nodded frantically, rested back on his elbows for leverage and skewering himself on Draco’s hardness. He groaned aloud, his hole twitching uncontrollably as he pushed back. The slick chute convulsed, swallowing Draco easily. “Hnn, the more you fuck me the easier it is to take it,” Harry whispered breathlessly, “You'll have to fuck me some more.”  
  
  
  
He heard Draco give a short, breathless laugh and Harry arched into the hand generously molesting his prick. He hissed out his pleasure as Draco pinched the tip, tugging his foreskin teasingly. “Oh, blimey!” Harry cried out, his hand flying down but by no means trying to stop him, just gripping his wrist like a lifeline, as his insides did the same to the cock invading him. His body was too sensitive; it felt like he was on fire. Pressing back into Draco, he circled his hips against him hungrily.  
  
  
  
“Fuck! Take me, have all of me. I want you to! N-Need you to!” His hips moved in senseless gyrations, rocking back and forth against Draco’s body. It wasn't enough. He always needed more of this closeness, more of Draco.  
  
  
  
The silver eyes above glazed over with a mix of passion and emotion then. He felt so alive when Harry was this hungry for him, when he wanted him this much. There was no greater feeling than this. He felt his heart thump manically in his chest, his breath stilled and he leant forward, holding their bodies close together, skin to skin.  
  
  
  
“Hmm, that's it move!” Draco groaned breathlessly. Harry made him breathless, without even trying. “I'll fuck you some more. As much as you like. Whenever you want it. You…you just have to _ask_. I always want to be with you, I always want to be this close to you. And every opportunity I have, I'll use it to touch you, have you. You're mine. I…finally…you're mine and I want to keep you,” Draco gasped, his hands running over that sweaty skin, losing himself to sensation, the words spilling over his lips without approval from his brain.  
  
  
  
Draco licked his lips then, leaning forwards and flicking his tongue around one of Harry’s nipples, taking the un-pierced nub and grazing his teeth over the tender flesh. He circled his muscle around the tender, oversensitive skin, suckling it, squeezing it between his flushed lips. “Hmm, perfect…!” He gasped, rolling that wet, pink tongue down over his pectorals and over the swell of his stomach. He felt Harry arch into him impatiently. “Merlin, I want you so badly,” Draco mumbled, glancing up to look his lover in the eyes. Eyes that shone with want, passion, and need.  
  
  
  
Harry’s body twisted as if it were about to burst. His hands flew down, scraping wantonly over Draco’s neck and shoulders, wanting him, more than he could ever remember wanting anything. His eyes fluttered shut and he cried out again at the feel of Draco worshipping his body in a way he thought no one ever would.   
  
  
  
“A-Always! I'll always be yours, don't want anyone else,” he managed out shakily. “Mine. You're all mine too. I…I love your voice, love it when you talk to me like that, like I'm…I'm your whole world!” The memory of it sent shivers through him, the bone-deep addiction burning through his core like a wave of insatiable fire. “Love your fingers and your mouth and...everything! I…I think I was _dead_ before I met you…!”  
  
  
  
His voice was husky and low and he rubbed the back of Draco’s neck as that mouth tasted his sweaty skin as if he were the sweetest elixir. He stroked that hair, remembering the embarrassment of Draco discovering how much he liked it and how the blond locks seemed to be on more display since.   
  
  
  
“I'll be dead again without you,” he choked out, his throat convulsing like his insides around Draco’s body. He could barely stand it. The intimacy, the closeness was almost too much. He cried out again, trying to turn his face into the sheets again to stifle the sound. Draco pulled him back with the leash, the cord squeezing his prick as he did so.  
  
  
  
He grinned when Harry winced. “Hmm, like that?” He asked. Harry’s head jerked with a fierce nod while Draco purred with bliss, rolling his hips up slowly into him. “Hmm, how do you want it? How do you want me to move inside you? Where do you want my hands?” He asked, watching Harry blush profusely. “I really like it when you say I'm your world, your…” Draco found himself a little hot in the cheeks then. “That I'm yours, your everything. I…that’s everything that I…” His voice trailed into a warm, perfect nothingness. He stared directly into those glistening emerald eyes then, still moving slowly inside.  
  
  
  
“I think I've always loved you, further back than I ever thought,” Draco continued. “I know that I was fascinated from the start, but looking back… There was only and will only ever be you. There's no one else like you, no replica, no one can replace you and I…” He stopped briefly to flash a cocky grin, unable to let the moment pass without some of his true character shining through. “Only one Harry Potter in the whole world and you’re all mine.”  
  
  
  
Harry smiled dazedly, reaching up to wrap his arms around Draco’s neck, pulling him close for a long, deep kiss before carefully rolling onto his side, Draco still buried inside him. “Want it like this,” he breathed, beckoning Draco to lay behind him. He made a noise of tortured negation when Draco pulled out, shimmying back against the warm chest as soon as the blond was spooned up against him. Harry turned his head for a kiss, it strained his neck but he didn't care. He needed him.  
  
  
  
“Like this,” he said again in a subtle purr, raising his leg up to give Draco access. He felt the blunt head of that pulsing shaft at his gaping orifice, soaked with him and he pushed back further, taking it into himself. Taking Draco as deep into himself as he could, never wanting to let him go. How had he lived twenty-one years without him? It seemed impossible now. It seemed ridiculous that anything had ever mattered more than this closeness they now had.  
  
  
  
Harry shivered in bliss as he felt Draco fill him slowly to the hilt and gasped out at the fullness. “Yes, like that! Cum together like this – with you around me, with you touching me.” He arched his neck when Draco kissed the nape, giving him access to shower his sensitive throat with butterfly kisses. He leant his head on Draco’s arm which lay under him, hand caressing his cheek, while the other reached around to stroke a trail down his belly. “I like this. Like you wrapped around me,” Harry muttered nonsensically, feeling his daughter kick softly, causing Draco to smile against his neck, before that hand dropped to Harry’s still bound prick. “Hmm, spoil your pet,” Harry teased, rocking back and forward into Draco’s slow thrusts.  
  
  
  
“Hmm, I like this too,” Draco agreed softly, leaning in, licking his _pet’s_ ear tenderly. Harry shivered when that tongue delved inside, sending his body into frantic spasms even as Draco panted slowly, “I will, I'll spoil my little pet as much as he wants.” Holding Harry tightly in his arms, he pressed deeper inside. Their bodies were seizing control, riding out their fervour against each other. Sweat had broken out across their skin, almost feverish with intensity. Yet Harry’s face was still buried in his armpit, inhaling the musky, debauched smells of their passion with every gasping pant.  
  
  
  
“Better than magic,” Harry insisted breathlessly, going limp and delirious in Draco’s tight embrace, nuzzling as close as he could go without limiting the gloriously deep movements into him. “Stay with me,” he panted, suddenly needing to be reassured, “Forever. I can't…can't do without you, can't…!” He reached down, stroking himself frantically as Draco’s thrusts quickened. The fingers holding his leg up dug in a little with Draco’s heightening pleasure and he cried out as the swollen, leaking cock inside him stabbed at his pleasure spot. “Make me mad with it – with you. Show me. Show me how much you love me, Draco.”  
  
  
  
How was it possible to feel so safe, so protected and yet so free at the same time? He had thought at the beginning that this place was his prison and Draco his jailer. How wrong he had been. It felt like he was flying, higher and faster than any firebolt. “C-Cum. Need to cum with you inside me, will you filling me up!” Harry insisted, his free hand reaching up to interlock with the fingers caressing his sweaty hair, holding him tight, as if he'd disappear.  
  
  
  
Draco moved faster, his insides twisting and bursting like a bullet train at Harry’s words. He wanted more than anything to show him how much he loved him, how much he wanted him. His back arched and he couldn't stop himself. His pants grew heavier over Harry’s skin and as he caught a glimpse of those eyes, he managed a breathless smile. He rolled Harry a little then, turning his head into his chest. “You hear that?” Draco gasped, moving still, falling fast into the shining chasm of ecstasy that was Harry’s warm body. “That sound, that’s how I feel when you’re with me, when you’re close to me like this. You make that move, you keep it beating.”  
  
  
  
Harry felt his own heart flutter in his chest and a quiet, broken gasp left him. his lashes fluttered and he closed his eyes, just feeling . He could feel it then, as if they were one person for that brief moment. Draco loved him, so much his heart was thumping frantically in his chest, unnaturally fast. “I'll keep it beating,” Harry promised, his voice husky with emotion and his entire body tightened around Draco, his neck craning for a kiss he couldn't quite reach.  
  
  
  
An odd, frantic noise he had never made in his existence tore free of his lips then and Draco, to his credit seemed to comprehend his wishes, lowering his head to capture Harry’s abused lips for a kiss. His body went rigid as he tasted Draco, his most treasured person, and he panted into his mouth. “N-Now. Now, Draco, c-c-cumming! Cum with me, cum in me – fill me up, please!” When had Draco’s climax become such a gift to him? He couldn't say, but the feeling of that moment, the intensity, the closeness was unlike anything else. “Close,” he panted.  
  
  
  
Draco’s skin pimpled with goosebumps. Hot and cold chills rushed through him, through his veins as they pinched tight and right down to his needy prick. “Merlin, Harry, tell me…tell me again how much you need me? Please. Tell me anything, just don't…don't stop talking!” He kept grinding his hips up, his shaft rocking hard into that special spot. He was so close now. His arms wrapped around the one he loved, holding him close, their sweaty bodies meshed together. He felt Harry’s hot liquid spurt over his stomach suddenly, painting him in a white sticky mess and the blissful roar of Harry’s climax made his vision spin.  
  
  
  
“Hmm, so close…so soon… _shit_ ,” He groaned, moving faster and harder to the pace of his own frenzied heartbeat.  
  
  
  
“Hnnn! Cum for me, please. _In me!_ I need you! Need to feel you, need you please, Draco!” Harry rolled his hips backwards with every move, the blinding light of his afterglow making his body shake. Draco’s arms tensed around him at the shivers and Harry kissed the hand he had hold of, squeezing Draco’s prick tightly. Milking Draco for all he was worth. “Make me yours, inside and out,” Harry pleaded. He felt Draco’s temperature soar to impossible heights, the thick hardness swelling inside him. “Yes. Yes, that's it baby, inside me!”  
  
  
  
Every time Harry said ‘baby’ it was as if it were a foreign name to his tongue and it made his insides stiffen in anticipation of his climax. “Fuck! I'm cumming! Ahh, I'm cumming… Ahhhhh!” Draco cried out as he felt his cock explode inside Harry’s sated, convulsing chute. He clung to him, still moving, unable to still himself, unable to let go. He pressed his lips to Harry’s then, his heart thumping so hard in his chest he swore he couldn’t breathe.   
  
  
  
“I love you. I…love you, Harry _Potter Malfoy._ ”  
  
  
  
Harry blinked at him and then smiled, returning the kiss before reaching his hand out and summoning his wand. Once the stickiness and the fluids were banished from their bodies, Harry tossed it onto the side table, rolling over to face Draco. He groaned as the blond slipped out of him, laying his head on that breathless chest, feeling those fingers trace gently through his ever-messy locks.  
  
  
  
“You make me feel so…well, you know. Precious,” Harry said softly, watching as Draco undid his 'collar' and set it and the leash to the side. “I don't think anyone has taken care of me the way you do.” He traced over Draco’s heart with the very tips of his fingers, as if trying to calm it, his own breath dusting Draco’s skin. And then, a soft thump from inside him made Draco jump a bit. “She saves the best kicks for you,” Harry mused, “That's what you get for jostling daddy about.” He heard Draco give a derisive snort and he lifted his head to lay a kiss under Draco’s chin. “Not that I was exactly complaining,” he assured him. Draco’s arms tightened around him comfortingly and Harry sighed, feeling their daughter kick them both again. “I think she can feel when you're there, you know,” Harry said, lying limbo in Draco’s arms, worriless, defenceless but not troubled by that fact for once in his life.  
  
  
  
“I think she knows that I’m here too. Still, kicking her daddy in the stomach isn't really a nice way to go about things… But perhaps that’s her way of saying she is happy?” Draco suggested. _Or to settle down so that she can sleep,_ his mind added. Smiling at that thought, he held Harry close. “So did you like your Christmas present?” Draco asked then, looking over to see said Christmas gift snuggled up in a pile of Harry’s dirty clothes. Harry laughed when he saw that. “She's a little beauty isn't she?” The blond prompted. “Got a name for her?”   
  
  
  
Harry looked blank, apparently he hadn't thought of a name.   
  
  
  
“Well now, that’s two babies we have to think up names for,” Draco mused.  
  
  
  
“I really love her,” Harry said, “and I suppose her name will be easier than our daughter's to think of. You know, I never got another…familiar after Hedwig – she was my owl, she died when I was trying to escape my aunt and uncle's house when I turned seventeen. The death eaters caught us…” He trailed off thoughtfully. Draco and he so rarely spoke about the war. Before they had signed that contract, it had been the centre of Harry’s world, the war. It was only now that he realised somehow, Draco had changed him, for the better.  
  
  
  
“I'm happy with her. She's gorgeous; she must've been so expensive?” Draco merely shrugged, and though Harry new money was hardly an object for his husband, he still felt a little guilty. “I'll have to think about it,” he said, looking up at the kitten who was watching him with big, playful eyes. “Can I think about it while you get me and your daughter some freddos?” He asked in feigned innocence. He saw a frown of confusion cross Draco’s brow.  
  
  
  
“And what exactly in Merlin's name is a _freddo_?” Draco asked.   
  
  
  
“Chocolate – a muggle kind. Dudley used to gobble them down like water when we were young. I stole one once though. Haven't had once since.” He leant in then, nestling into Draco’s chest, feeling the kitten ambling across the bed (as if sensing they were done) and clambering across to lie on Harry’s chest. He smirked, petting her gently. “It can wait until tomorrow though, it's just a craving,” he said torn between his want for sweets and Draco’s soothing warmth.  
  
  
  
“I suppose I can get these…chocolates” Draco began, lost as to why he would want muggle chocolate when wizarding chocolate was much better. Surely? Regardless, he smiled at him. He always looked so radiant after they had just had sex. More so when they _made love._ “Well, in the meantime, I can get you some wizarding chocolate. We have some frogs in the kitchen?”  
  
  
  
Harry blinked at him tiredly, scratching the kitten behind her little black ears and smirking as she rubbed her face into his hand. “Yeah, sure, chocolate frogs – did you know they were one of my first wizard’s chocolate? I still have the card that came out of it.” He saw the fond smile that Draco gave him, felt the kiss laid on his cheek but didn’t quite register that they were because of his endearingly senseless ramblings.  
  
  
  
Watching Draco hop off the bed and slide into his trousers before heading to the door, Harry sat up quickly, holding the kitten close to his chest. He saw Draco’s hand reach the handle and something in his chest jolted, like he wanted to say…something.  
  
  
  
“Draco?” he asked, his tone soft and tentative. Draco turned to face him, the smile still at his lips. Harry stared at him for a moment, those eyes glistening and that face alight with tenderness – for him, framed by that halo of blond hair. It felt like something was stuck in his throat, struggling to come out but it…it wouldn’t.   
  
  
  
“I… I really…” He trailed off, losing his thought process in a flush. Losing patience with his inarticulateness shortly after, he got to his feet and crossed the room to bring his lips to Draco’s. Softly, chastely they met, before he drew back, searching his eyes for an understanding of something he didn’t know if he could be sure of.  
  
  
  
“I think I… You’re everything, I meant it when I said it – you’re…” But he lost his words again and ducked his head awkwardly. He could be so assertive one moment and so bashful the next. But the smile still touching Draco’s expression gave him hope that the blond found that simply endearing also. “How about, Spinks?” He said suddenly, trying to change the subject for sake of his dwindling pride. “For the cat, I mean.”  
  
  
  
“Spinks?” Draco retorted. “Hmm, I actually like it,” he said with a hint of sarcasm, causing Harry to roll his eyes at him. “Well, it is _you_ naming it, I was certain you would call it something like _Fluffy_!” Harry grunted at that.   
  
  
  
“I'm not Hagrid, you know!” Harry spat, inciting one of those cheeky grins from Draco’s lips. His eyebrows came together then, as he reached forward to pet Spinks.  
  
  
  
“So, how often am I allowed to play with your pussy, hmm?” He asked with a smirk, bringing a rich blush to the chosen one’s cheeks. “ _Well_?”  
  
  
  
Harry gave him a teasing glare. “Well I’m not sure, she is my present, isn’t she?” He said, feigning a pensive look. “I just may share with you.” The cat pawed at his chest, before curling up and settling just above the bulge of his stomach, yawning widely. “Lazy little moggy,” Harry scolded her lightly, feeling quite like a lazy old house cat himself at that moment, when he stretched as much as the creature sprawled across him would allow. He blushed when he saw Draco looking at him with that doting gaze.   
  
   
  
 “You’ve tired me out,” Harry said with a smirk, his hand venturing across the covers to squeeze Draco’s fingers gently. “It’s exhausting being such a perfect husband,” he joked, seeing Draco’s mouth tip up at the corners in amusement.   
  
  
  
“Hmm, I wouldn't say you were perfect, not in comparison to me anyway,” he joked, making Harry to scowl at him playfully. “I'm happy that you enjoyed this Christmas with me.” He rolled aside then, reaching for his final gift, one Harry hadn’t seen him stash away inside the drawer of the bedside table. Harry looked up at him, stunned. The kitten had been _more_ than enough, but more still?  
  
  
  
Draco flipped the golden clasps of the ornate, mahogany box and revealed the dark crimson velvet lining the inside – and the treasure inside. But it could be a treasure to few only. Luckily, one of them was Harry. Inside was, at first glance a splintered piece of wood but on a second glance Harry’s eyes widened. He gasped. The wood was dark and highly polished, the splintered edges sharp but what captured Harry’s attention were the fine, golden letters across it. _‘Nimbus 2000’_ he just about made out, the ‘N’ and the last two zeros a little cracked from where the break had occurred.   
  
  
  
Instantly, Harry knew what it was, even without Draco explaining, his voice hesitant as if he wasn’t sure Harry would like it. “Third year, when the dementors attacked you and your broom was shattered by the whomping willow.” He cringed as he remembered the brutality of the tree and the fractures of broomstick that flew everywhere. “I found this bit; Weasley evidently didn’t scrape it all together. But I…I’m not certain _why_ I kept it, but it only seemed right I return it to you. If you want it, that is.”  
  
  
  
Harry stared at him for a moment, his mouth open but silent. There were no words. “I love it,” he said quietly, when he finally found his words. He took the box carefully, as if it would explode in a puff of smoke if he touched it, and ran his fingertips gingerly along the fragment of wood. “I…I was really gutted when this was broken – it was one of my first presents, you know. I didn’t get many so…” He stopped there, not wanting to sound maudlin and piteous and instead pulled the box close to his chest and tilting his head to span the small gap between them.   
  
  
  
“Thank you,” he breathed, words dusting Draco’s lips before he sealed them with a kiss. Embarrassed for some reason at such a personal gift, Harry broke it quickly, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against his husband’s. “I…err… I know that I saw in your memories – you liked me but, you really…even as early as third year?” It was hard to believe on reflection of his memories of Draco at that age, but then, he had been conditioned to loathe the feelings he’d felt for Harry, hadn’t he?  
  
  
  
“I really like it, thank you.”  
  
  
  
Draco shrugged, trying to show it wasn’t really a big deal. “I knew it was important to you, even if it’s useless now, it has sentimental value.” He flushed then. “I know I rubbed it in your face back in school but you were absolutely heart-broken when you found it couldn’t be fixed. I remember…” He smiled subtly at Harry’s affirmative nod.  
  
  
  
Then, Draco averted his gaze, as he thought of how he’d felt about Harry back then and how brutally he’d been punished for his ‘ _impossible_ ’ yearnings. “Yeah… I've _always_ liked you, Harry, _always,_ even before I knew what ‘liking’ a boy meant…” He winced, choking on his words, a lump rising in his throat. _I won’t be so affected by this!_ He thought. _For Merlin’s sake! I’m a man!_  
  
  
  
“Fuck you, Harry,” Draco managed out, his voice raspy. “D-Don’t…don’t leave here. I know that I said that I would let you, but I… I really don’t think that I can. Not after today…”  
  
  
  
Harry frowned, utterly confused by the swift u-turn of emotions. He sat up as much as he could without disturbing the lazy kitten on his stomach and stared up at Draco defiantly. “I’m not bloody going anywhere. I don’t want you to let me go. I… We’re going to raise our daughter together, aren’t we?” He tried, he thought they’d settled that but he supposed Draco needed little reassurances sometimes, just like he did. _Especially after Lucius’s appearance at the Burrow,_ Harry thought.  
  
  
  
He realised, however that Draco’s words meant more than just that and so he gnawed his lip thoughtfully for a moment, never one to voice such things aloud…  
  
  
  
“I told you, I…I can’t be with anyone else, I don’t want to be. I’m happy here – with you. I don’t want to be anywhere else; everything I need is… _here_.” It felt like his throat had closed up with embarrassment at saying such things, but Draco needed to hear them, to hear the truth.  
  
  
  
The tightness in Draco’s throat assuaged a little. He had waited so long for this, so many years of being taught to believe it was not only disgusting, but impossible. “Is this real?” Draco asked breathily. Looking into the glistening depths of Harry’s eyes, seeing the sincerity within. “Because if it isn't, I don't want to wake up. I can't…I just… D-Don't wake me up?”   
  
  
  
He knew he was making no sense, that he sounded irrational but the day had been perfect (despite the hiccups). He just couldn’t believe he had shared Christmas with Harry, with his family. There were no words that could describe how he felt. What was there to say when finally life seemed to hand you something back in reward for all of the suffering you had endured?   
  
  
  
He sometimes wondered how he had carried on; with no light visible at the end of a tunnel, with no hope. Then this… Harry Potter _wanted_ to stay, _wanted_ to be with him. He really wanted to? He actually felt something for him? He winced again. Every now and then, when they had a moment, an experience together that felt too good to be true he would doubt that this was real, that this was as good as it seemed to be. He doubted it could possibly last. “Don't lie to me,” he said softly. “Don't just tell me what you think I want to hear because you're scared of me. I know that I have been a monster to you at the start, but…”  
  
  
  
Harry laid back into the sheets and stared at him a moment, eyes shining in the dimness. “Come lay down,” he said simply, and there were a few stagnant moments before Draco hesitantly did as he was asked and laid out beside him. Harry’s fingers slid down the soft skin of Draco’s forearm, the sight of the dark mark there not bothering him at all now and he caressed the tender skin of his wrist a few times before entwining their fingers. He brought their joined hands up to rest against his lips and closed his eyes tiredly.   
  
  
  
“I don’t lie, least of all about something like that. Especially since I’m rubbish at lying,” Harry promised, turning his head so that he felt Draco’s hot breath on his cheeks. “And I was never scared of you. I was scared of how you made me feel, made me act, I was scared of humiliating myself – of surrendering to you, but I’m… I’m glad I surrendered, I’m glad I was wrong when I said…” He opened his eyes briefly, despite how tired he was to meet Draco’s intense gaze, so there could be no room for misunderstanding. “When I said I’d never be yours and that I’d never want you. I’m glad I was wrong.”  
  
  
  
Draco avoided that gaze, ducking his head under Harry’s chin and pulling him close. His stomach was a hindrance now in some ways, he couldn’t pull Harry in quite as tight as he liked, but still, he laid a hand there, stroking the skin softly. He had never been one for needing to be close to someone, he had done fine on his own, but with Harry, everything had changed, he supposed. He seemed to need him more now he had him, _want_ more of him, if that were possible.   
  
  
  
“At first, I that that you would never find happiness with me, but…if I can give you just a little of what you give me and if it’s okay with you, then I’m happy. You don't even need to love me the way I love you, because this is more than enough.” Draco didn't once look up at him as he spoke his muffled words to Harry’s chest.  
  
  
  
“You’re rambling, like you’re nervous,” Harry said carefully, “but there’s nothing to be nervous about, or sorry for.” He wished more than anything he could decipher his own feelings so that he could give Draco a more thorough, concrete reassurance, but this was all he could give until he knew himself. And Draco understood that. “We’re alright together, aren’t we?” He asked and he felt more than saw Draco give a stiff nod before he leant in closer.  
  
  
  
Spinks stumbled off his stomach with kittenish clumsiness, settling on the pillow above them instead as Harry tucked his head into Draco’s chest, giving him the control, the dominance back by curling into him. “I need you,” Harry said then, hearing Draco’s anxious hurt thud against his ear. “I’m not going anywhere.” He felt Draco’s arms wrap around him then, as if he were the one that needed to be held.  
  
  
  
Draco bit back the tears and for once they listened, they did not fall. He wouldn't cry when the person he had longed for was holding him this way, he had no legitimate reason to sob like a girl. He was just so overwhelmed that he was allowed to have this, that he was feeling more secure about this, slowly but surely. He didn't even need to hear Harry say he loved him back, (even though he wanted it) because whatever Harry gave him, even a smile, it filled him with an insurmountable light.  
  
  
  
“Good,” Draco said at last, finding his voice, “because I don't think that I can let you leave now, not even if that’s what you really want. Not now I’ve felt this…” He frowned at how selfish that sounded, but suddenly didn’t care, or at least, he tried not to. This was how he honestly felt, after all. He hated being unsure of himself, it was not the way he was raised to be! “I don't care if it's selfish. I may be a selfish bastard, but I'm only human and I want you with me, so badly.”  
  
  
  
Draco felt Harry’s hands caress the back of his neck and he felt the tension leave him. His lips brushed over the ridge of Harry’s nose and he remained there, while Harry listened to his relaxing heart. A heart that was slowly being convinced of its security, its happiness.  
  
  
  
Every now and then, when they had a moment, an experience together that felt too good to be true he would doubt that this was real, that this was as good as it seemed to be. He doubted it could possibly last. And every time, Harry banished a little of that insecurity and self-doubt away. Little by little, he was building him back up, stronger than before.  
  
  
  
“Be selfish then, I won’t stop you, and I am hardly complaining,” Harry murmured softly, his lashes fluttering with exhaustion. It had been a long day. “‘S warm,” he mumbled, incoherent from drowsiness and he slid in closer, sighing heavily against Draco’s chest as he drifted. “…Don’t feel like winter…” And that was the little sense he made before sleep overpowered him. _Everything always felt like winter until recently…_  
  
  
  
   
  
  
  
 _~To Be Continued..._  
  



	23. The Unexpected Poison

[Twenty-Three]  
  
 **The Unexpected Poison**  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
“Your weight should be increasing more steadily now since your baby is still filling out. The extra weight seems to be taking its toll on your back, however. Are you resting like I suggested?”  
  
  
  
Harry rolled his eyes, shifting in his seat. Why was it that a visit to their healer always seemed like a reading from one of the bloody male pregnancy books Hermione had pressed on him?! “I _am_ bloody resting,” he snapped, “I’ve barely moved since Christmas. Draco would probably carry me into the loo to piss if I let him, I do _have_ to move a little or I’ll get bedsores.” He reeled in his virile temper then, stopping his rant right there. He wasn’t leaving any room for Draco to make another comment about hormones…  
  
  
  
The familiar face of the healer didn’t even show signs of being insulted – she must have been used to him now, or simply immune to it because she incited this infuriation in all her patients. Still, Draco had insisted she was the best.  
  
  
  
“In addition to the back trouble, if you continue to experience leg cramps perhaps your husband could massage the muscles regularly for you?” She continued, looking to Draco with that respectful smile she seemed only to give him, never Harry. Harry grumbled under his breath, still not caring much for these sessions that just made him feel more and more emasculated with every visit. Perhaps that was why he was so snarky? Either way, the healer headed him off before he could even utter another word…  
  
  
  
“Mr Malfoy, I don’t think you quite understand the importance of the little things I ask you to do. Your stress levels are far higher than we’d like a female to have. For a man, combined with the stress that is on your body just by your daughter existing are highly dangerous. They could become fatal if you do not take care–”  
  
  
  
“I do take care!” Harry exclaimed, shouting over whatever Draco had been about to say. “You make it sound like I go off and throw myself in front of bludgers and ride Hungarian Horntails. The most exciting thing I do all day is fight the cat for a ball of string–” And have sex, but he wasn’t about to shout that at the top of his lungs. “–She’s my daughter, of course I care!”  
  
  
  
 Harry was still snappy at the appointments, Draco noticed, though he found it more amusing now, rather than annoying. Draco reached over and placed his hand upon Harry's shoulder. “Relax, Harry, she's trying to help you,” he assured him. Harry gave him a fleeting smile for his comfort but that didn't last very long, not with O’Dempsy staring down her nose at his stroppy husband.  
  
  
  
“Harry has been taking it easier,” Draco informed her politely, causing her stern features to soften slightly. She stepped over to her desk and handed Harry an information pack on the last trimester of pregnancy.  
  
  
  
“When you have the time, sit down and read this, it's quite informative and it should prepare you for what’s to come; before _and_ after the birth.” Despite what Draco had said in Harry’s defence, despite Harry’s insistence that he was taking care of himself, she could not help but raise a disbelieving brow as she surveyed him. “It is quite important, you realise?”  
  
  
  
Harry’s mouth opened to protest but before he could speak, O’Dempsy headed him off. “If you are indeed, resting as you say, then there must be other things that are causing you stress,” she began. Harry glanced at Draco out of the corner of his eye, not saying a word but _knowing_ that they were both thinking the same thing. Lucius.  
  
  
  
“I pray you understand,” she continued. “Though you’re nearly in your twenty-sixth week, an early delivery could still be fatal, especially since you’re a man.”  
  
  
  
Harry’s eyes widened and he looked back to Draco again, only to see that he too had gone deathly still. “Do you…you really think she’ll come so early?” Harry asked carefully. He hadn’t thought…he’d been assuming in another three months she’d just arrive, but by the look on the healer’s face, he supposed that was a very idealistic future. “So…what if she comes early? What makes you think that she–?”  
  
  
  
“The magic within you that sustains your ability to carry her has depleted of late,” she explained, cutting across Harry’s anxious ramblings. “This can be stress-induced; accelerating the consummation of the magic the potion imbued you with, whereas she is still growing at her normal rate. Or it could be something else, something that doesn’t show up in the regular scans…”  
  
  
  
Harry felt his knuckles go white his hands were clenched so tightly. “A curse?” He asked, his question a bare whisper. “Has someone poisoned me? Or hexed me?”  
  
  
  
“I do not think so, Mr Malfoy; such causes would have depleted it much further.”  
  
  
  
Harry looked to Draco again, not knowing what to say, or do. He suddenly felt quite sick.   
  
  
  
“Perhaps it would put your mind at ease if I scanned for a spell-induced reduction anyway?” She asked when they hadn’t spoken for a few minutes. Harry said nothing, but he saw Draco nod out of the corner of his eye. “Excellent,” she said, getting to her feet, “I will fetch my superior to refer to on the matter, she may be able to advise on ways to restore the magic if we cannot solve the problem.”   
  
  
  
Harry didn’t like the sound of that, and the soft click of the door closing behind O’Dempsy was thunderous in his ears. In the same instant, he felt Draco’s hand touch his, the gesture making him realise just how cold and clammy he suddenly felt. Still he didn’t say anything, couldn’t even manage to raise his head to look Draco in the eye. “I feel sick,” he managed out at last, feeling Draco’s thumb drift across the back of his hand gently.  
  
  
  
Harry had in fact gone deathly white, his lips pale and dry. Draco's eyes widened as he considered him seriously for a moment. After a silently panicking, he decided he had to do something, _anything_. He rose to his feet. “I'll go and get you a drink of water?” Draco asked, though he was more telling him than actually asking. The room seemed to still at his departure and Harry felt an eerie chill rush over him as an unfamiliar person entered shortly after…  
  
  
  
  
  
Draco rushed along the corridor, stopping at the alcove where the dispensers stood – a magical alternative of a vending machine. It was a series of pictures above a shallow tray, which (when tapped on) would summon the corresponding item, or at least would let the house-elves that were in charge of them know what was desired. He glared impatiently at the slow method, jabbing his finger at the water. He disliked these methods, so similar to muggle ways. St. Mungo’s had this ‘technology’ to reduce the need for unnecessary magic around patients that might be sensitive to it because of their condition. Elf magic was different, after all. But even if it made sense, it didn’t stop Draco from being irritated that he couldn’t just summon a glass of water for his husband when he needed one.  
  
  
  
The flask of water appeared then in the tray before him and he stared at the selection, deciding that he’d best get Harry something to eat as well. Harry needed his strength. Draco had been sloppy with him this morning in not making sure he had eaten breakfast, it was a fact he was cursing himself for after seeing the colour Harry had turned moments ago.  
  
  
  
 _You’re supposed to look after him! Fool!_ He admonished.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
“Hello there, Harry, is it?” The strange woman asked. She was extremely unconventional as far as healers went. _A bit tarty, even,_ Harry’s mind supplied as she strolled in and placed a few rolls of parchment on the desk. His eyes widened, however when she opened her case to reveal a large needle. He swallowed hard.  
  
  
  
“It is just a simple blood test,” she assured him, but her eyes weren’t meeting his as she set the needle into the tube.   
  
  
  
Harry shifted nervously as she approached him with and two vials (one empty, one occupied by an odd, purple liquid) and her needle.   
  
  
  
“Just a little blood first, Mr Potter,” she said calmly. Harry stiffened, pulling his arm away.  
  
  
  
“It’s Malfoy,” Harry corrected, wondering what was going on here. _Everyone_ called him Malfoy, except perhaps the Weasleys. “And I’d like to see some proof of identification before you shove anything in my arm.” He saw the young woman give a soft, odd smile. He was _sure_ he’d seen her somewhere before, but could not pinpoint exactly where…  
  
  
  
“Of course, Mr Malfoy,” she said pleasantly, dipping her hand into her breast pocket and flashing him a small badge. Harry shrugged, it looked official enough – where had Draco got to? “These samples are for the tests for the health of your child, Mr Malfoy, if you would rather we postpone it–”  
  
  
  
“No,” Harry said quickly, rolling up his shirtsleeve and laying his arm out for her. “No, I…I need to know if she’s alright. Just – just do it.”  
  
  
  
An eerie “ _certainly, Sir_ ,” left her lips and Harry flinched, a low hiss tearing from his lips as the needle was shoved roughly into the vein at the inside of his elbow. “My apologies,” she said, without an ounce of regret in her voice as she used the plunger in the needle to suck a good amount of Harry’s blood into the empty vial.  
  
  
  
Harry’s vision swooned, seeing his blood like that made him quite nauseous again.  
  
  
  
“A moment longer, Sir,” she said, for what felt like the eighth time, and Harry still felt dizzy when she plucked the empty vial out, replacing it with the one full of purple liquid.   
  
  
  
“Whassss’at?” He gurgled incoherently as he felt the sharp sting of the liquid being injected into him. He felt his insides tense in warning. Had she done something to him when she entered without him seeing? Cast some spell? He didn’t feel good at all…  
  
  
  
 _Draco, where the hell are you?_  
  
  
  
Panic surged in his chest, clutching spitefully at his lungs. It felt like his veins were freezing as the liquid travelled through, and he felt bile rise in his throat as the ominous coolness spread over his stomach. He wanted to move his hand there, as if for protection, wanted to grab his wand but he felt paralysed with the cold, with the sudden limpness that have overcome his limbs.  
  
  
  
“What you putting in me?” Harry tried again at speech, “W-What’re you…?” But his voice failed him there and she plucked the needle unceremoniously from his arm, before heading towards the door. She tossed her hair as she gave him a final glance.   
  
  
  
“Some chosen one, good day, _Mr Potter_ ,” she murmured, before opening the door, a surprised sound leaving her lips as she found someone standing on the threshold.  
  
  
  
Harry slumped in his chair, his fingers inching towards his wand, spending every effort for the most pointless of movements, unable to even lift his head to see Draco standing in the doorway, horror-stricken at who the _‘healer’_ was.  
  
  
  
“Draco,” the girl purred darkly, tucking the vial of Harry’s blood into her robes.  
  
  
  
“Freya?” Draco said in horror, remembering her conniving face anywhere. The slut from before, the one who had promised to make his and Harry's lives hell, the one who worked for his _father_! Panic rose in Draco's throat and he glanced sideways at Harry to see his head lolling on his shoulders. Draco shoved the woman backwards, snarling as she flew backwards into the wall. His fingers bit deep into her neck under he felt her skin _crunch_ under his nails and his eyes flared with fury as it overwhelmed him. He slammed her back hard into the stone, almost choking her.   
  
  
  
“What did you do?! What the _fuck_ did you do?!” Draco screamed, making sure to spit in her face as he did so. “Tell me what you did, you cunt!”  
  
  
  
Freya merely smirked, her tongue darting over her lips to gather his spittle. Her hair was still a dazzlingly bright purple, handing into the curves of her face as she glared up at him in what may have been seduction.  
  
  
  
“What in Merlin’s name is going on?!” Came O’Dempsy’s voice from the doorway. She flew in, rushing to Harry’s side. “Mr Malfoy?”  
  
  
  
Disregarding the new arrivals, Draco slammed Freya _hard_ into the wall again, hearing something snap, before dragging her from the room by her hair. He remembered her words now…  
  
  
  
 _“Your father came to me with a proposition, you know,” she purred darkly, reaching up to touch the lipstick smear she had left on Draco’s cheek. “He suggested that should anything ever happen to your favourite pet, that I would be a good candidate to take his place… I’m much more suitable for the role as Mrs Malfoy.”_  
  
  
  
Her words still rang loud and clear in his head as he dragged her out into the waiting room, throwing her across the floor. Those waiting in there shrieked and leapt to their feet, but Draco easily silenced them with a glare and they stayed back. They knew who he was alright.  
  
  
  
“Your father sends his best wishes, Draco,” Freya choked out, wiping the blood crying free of her lips as she struggled to sit up. “He just wanted me to do a little check-up on your favourite whore of the moment, that’s all.” She never knew when to shut up. That was one thing he remembered about her, she had to have the last word and it always had to be an insult. “How _is_ precious little Harry? He couldn’t even give you a son I hear, can’t even provide a suitable habitat for your child. I warned you of his inadequacies…”  
  
  
  
Draco's anger tore from his throat in a scream as he almost ripped her hair from her pretty little head. She didn't scream, she just winced, smiling, always smiling. “What is _wrong_ with you?! I have my own say in what I do with my life! I’m not some _puppet_ , you daft bitch! My father _doesn't_ control me, and if you think for one moment that I would _ever_ marry you, touch you, _fuck_ you again, you're out of your mind! I wouldn't have you if you were the last person alive!” Draco hissed in pure hatred for this woman, studying her vile face as he tried to calm himself down. It didn’t matter who he was, if he committed murder in the middle of St. Mungo’s they would call for the aurors.   
  
  
  
“You can give this message to my father,” Draco began again, his voice low, and deadly like the warning growl of a predator stalking its prey. “You can tell him that I've had enough. No more, you hear me? NEVER AGAIN! He will not hurt me ever again. And if he comes near me or Harry, if he even _thinks_ of harming us…” Draco's eyes narrowed darkly then, “I won't hesitate to kill him.”  
  
  
  
The woman stumbled to her feet, her nails scraping against the wall for purchase. “I suppose you can tell him yourself, since he intends to pay you a visit quite soon,” she promised darkly, foreshadowing her next words by bringing the now empty vial out of her robes, shaking it menacingly in front of Draco, a purple residue still at the bottom. “And it wasn’t you or your precious _Harry_ that he sent me here for today,” she said and her words hit Draco like a bucket of ice. “You might wish to go check on your daughter…”  
  
  
  
 Draco stopped dead cold in his place. Fear rushed through him as he took hold of her hair again, his fist crashing into her face. She plummeted backwards into the floor. “I've never been a fan of men who hit women, but in your case…” He watched for a moment longer while she cried out on the floor, her hand touching her cheek gingerly and before she could retaliate, Draco left.   
  
  
  
“Harry? Harry?!” Draco shouted as he flew back into the room. He looked at both the healer who were hovering around him, O’Dempsy and another. “What’s happened? Is he ok? The baby? That…that _woman_ , she had this purple potion, she…” His words cut short then as O’Dempsy spoke.  
  
  
  
“Where is that woman?” She asked. Draco glared to the door, but when the second healer went over to check, she had already vanished. “Mr Malfoy, you should have made her tell you _exactly_ what she has given him. Who was she? We could get her sent to Azkaban for this!”  
  
  
  
“Just tell me what’s wrong with him. And our baby?” Draco felt his heart crack as he glanced over to his husband who seemed to be passed out on the examination table-come bed where the nurses had moved him.   
  
  
  
Harry’s eyes were closed and sweat beaded across his forehead but his chest rose and fell with firm, even breaths. “Take a seat, Mr Malfoy,” O’Dempsy said softly, guiding him into the chair nearest Harry when Draco didn’t seem able to respond correctly. The superior nurse pressed a warm cup of something into Draco’s hands, the strong smell startling him from his reverie. She gave him a soft, sad smile before she sat back opposite him.  
  
  
  
“That’ll help calm you, please drink it all, Mr Malfoy, Healer O’Dempsy and I need to explain a few things to you.”  
  
  
  
On the bed beside him, Harry was deathly still, apart from his breathing, and he wondered what that meant. What had his father’s latest pawn had done to him?  
  
  
  
“How much do you know about the potion that your husband ingested so that he could carry your daughter?” O’Dempsy asked, holding his gaze rigidly. Draco just shrugged, sipping at the drink he’d been handed; it was strong and fiery like whisky. “I believe I must explain then, before you can understand…  
  
  
  
“The potion your husband took created a pseudo uterus, and as it grows within, the magic properties of it adjust to protect his otherwise unsuitable body – his hips, his back, all of his internal organs, they are not suitable generally, magic makes it possible. When the baby is removed at the end of the pregnancy, the uterus vanishes, the spell ends when the baby is clear of his body. That is how it works,” she explained and Draco merely nodded lucidly. Were he in his right mind he may find it interesting but as things stood…  
  
  
  
“Stress can deplete the magic, as I have said, but Harry’s personal magic was… _topping it up,_ should we say,” O’Dempsy continued, before looking to her superior warily. “ _Now,_ however–”  
  
“–That woman injected your husband with something,” the superior healer supplied, “Something that rapidly began to devour the magical properties the potion gave, meaning the uterus would have become unstable and I think you know the consequences of that.”  
  
  
  
She leant forward a little, and Draco downed all of the drink for extra strength before she spoke again. “Harry might have felt a little sick and dizzy from the rush of his magic trying to make up for the loss. We managed to stop the depletion before all of the magic surrounding your child was gone; however, it is unlikely that…that Harry will be able to carry to term now.”  
  
  
  
“So he has to be induced? What are you saying exactly? Don't mess me around, just tell me outright what’s going to happen.” Thank Merlin Harry was still out. Draco feared that whatever she was about to say would be _less_ than good and if that was the case, he wanted to be the one to let Harry know softly.   
  
  
  
O’Dempsy stepped away from Harry, along with the other healer, both lowering their voices so Harry could not hear their whispers if he awoke. “Please, what happens from here? Is he going to face yet more pain? What can I do? I…” The superior healer grabbed Draco's shoulder suddenly, squeezing it firmly.   
  
  
  
“Calm down Mr. Malfoy, please.”  
  
  
  
Draco removed her hand then and tried to find that calm exterior he had once managed to uphold at all times, before Harry, that is. Only when he had found it again did she continue to speak.  
  
  
  
“He has _some_ magic left, and what he doesn’t have his own magic is supplementing. To allow that to continue for a prolonged period of time, however, will be disastrous for Harry’s own health. I suppose you and he will need to discuss this, but we advise that Harry takes a mild accelerant to help speed up your daughter’s growth, not by much, just enough to improve the odds of her survival. I don’t think you’ve got more than a month, a month and a half at best before she’ll have to be removed, one way or another,” the healer said carefully, trying not to mix her words, to tell him straight.  
  
  
  
“I am guessing though, that your husband will fight our decision and try to last as long as possible, to make things better for her no doubt,” she said, sitting back and glancing from Draco to an unconscious Harry, waiting for any questions he may have. “If you leave it too long, however – the most likely scenario is that your daughter will try to deliver herself before the magic is exhausted and with no _actual way_ for her to get out, that could be fatal to your husband.”  
  
  
  
Draco's mind was a frenzy suddenly at all of the gory, agonising possibilities. _A month and a half! Fatal to Harry!_ Draco's first rational thought hit him like a freight train. It wasn't safe anymore, and there was a chance she may not make it. A chance neither of them would. However, there had always been that chance, he supposed.   
  
  
  
“What are the chances of her survival in her current condition? I mean, if it goes well from here on out, there’s still a chance she could die, isn’t there? And Harry?” Draco asked, his voice shaky. He swore he would kill that bitch and his father, both agonisingly slow. He licked his suddenly dry lips then, gripping the arms of the chair hard to try to stop his arms from shaking.  
  
  
  
“I… No matter what happens, Harry comes first,” Draco said firmly. “Save them both if you can, but…Harry comes first.” Even though it pained Draco to say that, he had to be brutally honest here. The other healer nodded readying to speak, O’Dempsy remaining silent through it all.  
  
  
  
“I cannot say exactly, Mr Malfoy. I cannot give you a solid answer. If Harry agrees to take the accelerant, which would give your daughter more chance at survival, then they could both survive. It is the length of time that is the question – the longer you allow the better it looks for your daughter, but obviously, less good for Harry.”   
  
  
  
The Healer got to her feet then, approaching Harry’s beside and drawing her wand. “I’ll wake him now, so that you can decide together,” she said, “ _Ennervate_!” And with that, Harry jerked to life on the table. He took a sharp intake of breath before his memories of what had caused him to lose consciousness had him jolting bolt upright. He glanced between the two healers and then Draco in confusion, clutching his arm where the needle had stabbed him.   
  
  
  
“What…? That healer she wasn’t… What did she stick in me? Where is she?”  
  
  
  
“So either way it's a risk,” Draco said, more to himself than the healer. Draco hurried to the table then to comfort his husband, in his haste showing perhaps the first glimpse of genuine selfless affection and concern in front of others. Caring not for outward appearances, Draco pulled Harry into his arms. “You're safe Harry, you're alright,” Draco assured him, and Harry's arms came up behind him to pull him in close. He allowed Harry this moment before the downpour when he moved away and returned to his seat.  
  
  
  
“Harry,” Draco started in a dull, heavy tone and immediately Harry knew something was wrong.  
  
  
  
“That woman, who was she? I think I saw – she called you Draco, do you know her?” Harry asked, still rubbing the place where the needle had punctured his flesh. Frowning at the pain, he reached inside his pocket for his wand, but as he aimed it at the wound, O’Dempsy’s hand touched his wrist gently, stopping him.  
  
  
  
“I think you should refrain from using your magic until you have heard what we have to say,” O’Dempsy warned gently, and Harry’s eyes widened.   
  
  
  
“I – that woman, she – what did she poison me with? It felt…” He turned his gaze back to Draco again, confused. “What’s happening?”  
  
  
  
“Harry, just listen, alright?” Draco breathed. Harry was sure Draco knew that woman, but his desire to push the matter was cut off by Draco’s forebodingly soft words. “You have a very important decision to make… Harry, I…” Draco looked to O’Dempsy and her superior for reassurance then. He couldn't bring himself to even _begin_ to tell him what the situation now was. And more than that, he was desperate to get out and kill that bitch and his father for putting them in this situation. Everything was just fine before, of course there may have been complications but now…  
  
  
  
“Will you explain the situation to him?” Draco asked feeling a failure in not even being able to do this much for his husband. The healer nodded to his request, seeing just how difficult this was for him, and how it was only just sinking in.   
  
  
  
As things were carefully explained to Harry, his hands tightened on the edge of the table, he worried his lip and realised that he needed to do whatever was in the best interest of his daughter, but still… He felt utterly confused. “Is this because of that woman?!” Harry demanded suddenly, angrily. “Why didn't you stop her?! Why are you all just sitting here?! I don't understand!” Harry's voice shook a little with despair in that last sentence. Draco tried to comfort him again, calm him. He knew that the stress of this situation wasn't good for him either and he urged Harry to relax.  
  
  
  
“Harry, it's up to you to take the accelerant, but…this is something you need to decide. You're putting yourself at more risk if you wait to long, even _with_ the accelerant, but it–”   
  
  
  
“It will give her a better chance?” Harry finished.  
  
  
  
“But I don't want you to…” Draco lost his words there. He didn't need to say it aloud, Harry already knew.  
  
  
  
“I don’t know as if it helps to _know_ what that vile woman poisoned you with,” the superior healer interjected when Harry remained quiet. “But what she injected into you was a variant of an abortion potion, if allowed to ruminate in your system it would devour the magic sustaining your daughter, your uterus would harmlessly dissolve, but so would your child.”  
  
  
  
Harry felt his stomach lurch. Everything was shaking inside him, he swore he felt his very _lungs_ shivering and when a warm hand caught his he realised that was shaking too. His whole body was. But he couldn’t meet Draco’s eyes, even as he leant into the warmth of the man beside him.  
  
  
  
“She was just…she was going to let my daughter just…just _dissolve_ , like fucking sugar in a cup of tea?! How dare she – how – _disgusting_ , she – my daughter would’ve felt every inch of that as she died! She’s not even born yet?!”  
  
  
  
“As the uterus fades your daughter would be poisoned by the toxins before she died, not that that makes it any better,” O’Dempsy corrected, “Luckily it seems as if we stopped the process before the toxins reached her. Everything is fully intact, just…as we have told you.”  
  
  
  
“I’ll kill her,” Harry growled darkly, “She doesn’t know who she is dealing with – I’ll douse her with acid and watch _her_ dissolve into nothing! I – I – I’ll kill her!”  
  
  
  
“Be still you foolish boy,” the superior hissed, showing her age by towering over him like an infuriated teacher. “There are aurors for such matters, _you_ , however need to sit tight and consider that any actions of yours have repercussions on your daughter who is still inside of you!” She lectured and Harry snarled under his breath, turning his head to the side, his teeth grinding furiously together. Anger burned through his veins, he was Harry fucking Potter, or he _had_ been. He _would_ kill her, for threatening something that had at some point become so precious to him…  
  
  
  
It was hard to remember the time where he was so ready to hand her over to Malfoy and walk away forever. It seemed impossible.  
  
  
  
Continuing to stare down at his lap, where Draco’s thumbs were rubbing the backs of his hand reassuringly, Harry struggled to harness his breathing, to stifle the liquid fury surging through him like a tide of lava. _Kill her. I’ll kill her_ , he spat mentally, thinking of all the gruesome ways to end her. _I’ll finish her – when I can…_  
  
  
  
“I’ll take the accelerant to help her grow as much as possible, if there are no side-effects for her?” Harry asked. O’Dempsy shook her head.  
  
  
  
“It’s only used in emergencies. And it will not disfigure or harm her, it only speeds things up by a third after all but it’s better than nothing. The accelerant also strengthens muscles and bones, which are not yet finished reinforced by growth. I do advise you take it, Mr Malfoy but as for leaving it as long as possible I really–”  
  
  
  
“When she is ready to come I’ll feel something won’t I? I’ll feel pain, fake contractions like the books said,” Harry growled, quite aware that Draco had fallen deathly quiet at his words, “So I’ll wait and when she’s ready then you can take her out.”  
  
  
  
The healers looked to Draco imploringly, then back to Harry. “That is really risky for your own health, Harry,” the superior said.  
  
  
  
Draco interjected then. “And the painful truth of the matter is that you're more important to me than anything else. I want our child, I do, but I have to be practical Harry, I won't risk anything over this. I only just found you.”   
  
  
  
“If I may?” O’Dempsy interrupted. “As a parent, you should realise that the natural instinct is to always put the child’s needs before your own. I realise the concept is hard, Mr. Malfoy, you love both your husband and your daughter and I understand that Harry means a great deal to you, but when you took this child on board you also took on the responsibility of her life, did you not?”  
  
  
  
“Yes,” Draco conceded with a sneer, “but even if Harry does do this there's no guarantee she’ll survive. They could _both_ die in the end; at least Harry is strong and has more chance of–”  
  
  
  
“She's right,” Harry said, interrupting him. Deep down Draco knew the only choice was to agree. Their unborn daughter deserved a chance, but he couldn't help but feel like choosing that option was just like saying Harry meant nothing. It felt like he was signing his death warrant.  
  
  
  
“I have to risk myself for her, Draco,” Harry said softly. “I have to.”  
  
  
  
“It's Harry choice more than mine,” Draco shrugged, trying for nonchalant rather than allowing himself to break down in front of them all. “But there is no meaning in my life without him, I'm not certain I can raise her without him…”  
  
  
  
“What are you on about?” Harry hissed, whispering the next part so that only he could hear. “You were going to before, weren’t you? You were more than willing to raise her alone–”  
  
  
  
“I don't want you to die!” Draco said suddenly, painfully, causing them all to look at him.  
  
  
  
Harry considered him a moment, considered the fear, the pain engraved on his pale, perfect features and he leant in – his tongue swiping across his lips in nervousness at their intimacies being witnessed (since they had never touched so closely in front of anyone before). He brushed the briefest of kisses to Draco’s mouth before resting his forehead against the blond’s, closing his eyes as he inhaled gently.  
  
  
  
“You forgot who you married,” he said softly, with a small smile touching his lips, “I’m the Boy Who Lived – _twice_. I’m not going to die; it’s going to be fine. I’ve more than enough magic to supplement what we’re losing until she’s ready. I think the one thing your silly newspaper got right was that killing Voldemort – _sorry_ ,” he added the last part for the benefit of the healers, who flinched at the name, “–that killing _him_ left me with greater powers than before. I’m strong, I can’t take it. You’re not going to lose me, Draco,” he promised.  
  
  
  
Draco didn't feel any less uneasy about Harry's promise, yet he found himself nodding to his wishes regardless. “I suppose this is what they call compromise,” Draco began. “Because no matter how much I love our unborn daughter, I can't help but think this is the wrong decision…”  
  
  
  
O’Dempsy smiled at him. It just informed her of how much he loved Harry, and that was a nice thing to see after everything that had been happening between them of late. “But whatever Harry chooses, I will adhere to,” Draco added, and Harry smiled at him. When had he changed so much? Was this really even the same Draco from before? Harry had known that the pregnancy had made him stop and think, and Harry was grateful to that, because that allowed him to get to know Draco better. _Which in turn allowed me to save him,_ Harry thought. He sometimes wondered what would have become of them if their daughter had never happened. Would Draco be the same person he was right now? Would Harry?  
  
  
  
The thought was quite a morbid one. The only reason Draco had changed this much at first was because of the child. If she had never been conceived, would Harry even still be alive? Would things have still worked out?  
  
  
  
“So hand me this accelerant – how often do I have to take it?” Harry said, turning to the healers, pushing his thoughts aside. O’Dempsy regarded him nervously before summoning the vials in question with her wand and handing them to Draco, as if that would make him feel more in control of the situation. “Two doses twice a day, one with breakfast one with dinner. Do not forget to take them – if you miss a dose and mess around with your daughter’s growth–”  
  
  
  
“I’m not an idiot, I can take a potion,” Harry grunted.  
  
  
  
“Indeed,” the superior murmured, before looking to Draco, “If he passes out, if he feels dizzy or has stomach cramps, you must contact me immediately.” She paused to take a small, nervous breath. “It’s a dangerous game your husband plays; you’ll have to make sure he’s as least stressed as possible.”  
  
  
  
Harry glanced at Draco out of the corner of his eye. He knew a life without stress was impossible with Lucius and his pawns still lurking behind every shadow. The manor was safe against Lucius now but Harry couldn’t stay there forever, he’d get to him somehow – at the Weasleys or… _somewhere._  
  
 _  
  
How in Merlin's name are we going to solve this?_ He wondered, fiddling idly with the platinum band around his wedding finger. It was a good job the trinket held protection from most curses – it had probably saved his life more times than he could count now without even _knowing it._ He looked up then at last, realising that the healers were watching him with calculating gazes.  
  
  
  
 _How can we tell them that his father is trying to get me and the baby out of the way? If anyone finds out surely they might find out about what happened to Draco too and that…that would be disastrous – that would destroy Draco._ He thought then, pondering Severus’s offer to have Lucius discreetly dealt with. But it wasn’t the means that was the problem it was that whatever Lucius was, he was Draco’s father. He turned his gaze to Draco then, wondering.  
  
  
  
 _How can I ask him to kill his father, for me? That’s too…I can never ask that of him, I would rather live in worry…_  
  
  
  
“I will of course, try to prevent keep him from all stressful situations, but as you are aware, some things are…unavoidable,” Draco replied. “I understand that his health is most important, but–”  
  
  
  
“No _buts_ then, Mr. Malfoy. No matter what worries you have hanging over your head, your husband and daughter must come before all else,” the superior warned.  
  
  
  
“Yes, I understand. I will take care of them, and make sure the accelerant is correctly dosed.” Harry scowled at him for that, as if he couldn't handle something so simple himself. Bastard. “Come now, Harry, don't give me that face,” Draco said smiling while the healers prepared some other essentials for them. Harry's eyes narrowed. Draco wasn't the one who was just attacked with a great ruddy needle!  
  
  
  
“I'm not a complete idiot,” Harry grumbled, hauling himself up to his feet. His knees trembled warningly at the sudden weight, but he remained upright, swatting O’Dempsy’s hands away when she moved to assist him. He didn't want anyone touching him right now, not anyone he didn't trust at any rate.  
  
  
  
He couldn't help but feel unnerved at the way Draco had said he'd take care of things. Especially since they both knew what the main stress was. He didn't think Draco could survive dealing with 'that' particular problem. _Not remaining the same as well,_ Harry thought, watching as the superior healer passed Draco a small bag that clinked when he took it. More potions, Harry realised, moving towards the door. He just didn't feel safe here anymore, kept expecting more of Lucius's minions to burst through the door at any moment…  
  
  
  
“Be sure to firecall us if you feel the slightest discomfort or change,” O’Dempsy insisted and Harry nodded, thankful when Draco led him out into the hall. It was quiet for a moment as they walked the whitewash, sterile halls towards the floo point, that was, until Harry brushed his knuckles over the back of Draco's hand, needing to tell him…  
  
  
  
“I feel safe with you,” he said, raising his eyes from the floor to Draco when he received no answer. “That…that woman. You knew her?”  
  
  
  
“Yeah…well…” Draco just looked around at him slowly, his hair hanging into his eyes. He could see that Harry already knew the answer, deep down. “She was…”  
  
  
  
Harry's memory flashed then and he realised. _One of Draco's sluts._ He felt sick suddenly.  
  
  
  
“She always was a stupid, air-headed troll,” Draco began. “And she always was helplessly obsessed with my name and my appearance and money, so much so that she couldn’t see anything beyond them. But because of that, she never really got to know who I really was, just who she wanted me to be. She loved the me she could take advantage of, the me who was a…an arsehole.” Harry found himself smiling at that, still, it was unnerving. How many of Draco’s past sluts had a vendetta against him just for marrying him?  
  
  
  
“She was the one you sacked for insulting me,” Harry said, understanding now, it was not a question, it all made perfect sense. “I’m always going to have people after me though, whether because I used to be Harry Potter or because I _am_ Harry Malfoy, it makes no difference…”   
  
  
  
His words trailed of into thoughtful pause and he stopped a second, just as they reached the next available grate to take them home. “We’ll make an example of her,” Harry said darkly, raising his eyes to Draco. “We’ll show everyone what happens to the people stupid enough to come after us or our daughter and then maybe they’ll think twice about–”   
  
  
  
Harry’s eyes widened then and his hand flew to his injured arm, a tiny globule of blood brewing at the wound. “My blood…!” Harry gasped, horror in his voice. “She took my blood! What – what the hell can they need, can they _possibly_ do with it?” His mind was reeling through all the foul, horrid things, the dark spells they could do with his blood. “I can’t even _imagine_ what they – what if they do something really awful? I mean, what they’ve already done is…” But he lost his voice there shaking his head as if struggling to break free of the bolt of anxiety that was drowning him.   
  
  
  
Draco wrapped his fingers around Harry’s then, squeezing his hand tightly. “Harry relax, please…” He wet his dry lips absently. “I'll deal with it. No matter why she took your blood, I will not let anything happen to you,” He promised, though Harry wasn't sure exactly how that was possible with all the dark spells and curses Lucius Malfoy had knowledge of…  
  
  
  
It seemed a long, quiet trek to the floo point after that. Harry quite lost to his own thoughts, could not find an escape from the perilous, self-destructive trail of thought until he was startled back into reality by roaring, emerald flames. He jumped, watching the wizards before them disappear into the nearest grate. That was when he felt Draco’s warm, comforting arm wrap around (what was left of) his waist, tugging him toward the fireplace.   
  
  
  
“Perhaps I’ll have another look in the _Magically Big Book of Baby Names_ while you prop my wussy arse up on the Manor’s best pillows?” Harry suggested, trying for light-hearted humour but seeing worry still etched into Draco’s features. He didn’t want pity, he didn’t want to be felt sorry for, or molly-coddled, just that _look_ in those stunning eyes made him feel so…so _pathetic._  
  
  
  
“We could always call her Mildred,” Harry mused, watching Draco’s brows descend in a displeased frown as he backed into the grate, pulling Harry tight against his chest. Harry let out an ‘oof’ as he collided lightly with his chest, tucking his head down into Draco’s neck to prevent the dizziness that floo travel inspired in him. “Not a fan of _The Worst Witch,_ then?” Harry asked, just as Draco threw the powder to the ground before them and they were thrown into motion by the magical flames.  
  
  
  
With his eyes shut tight and his body pulled against Draco’s he didn’t feel much except for the tickle of powder under his nose, and a little light-headedness as Draco pushed him gently from the grand, marble fireplace and out into the manor’s foyer. “It’s a muggle story about a girl who gets sent away to a school for witches,” Harry explained, failing to enlighten his husband.  
  
  
  
“Right,” Draco said bewildered. He knew Harry was trying to distract him with useless information, but it wasn’t imperative that he relax, Harry on the other hand…  
  
  
  
“Harry, I want you,” Draco announced abruptly, turning his dark, deep eyes on him. That certainly would make Harry forget his troubles, would work out the stress from his body. “Well, are you up to it?” Draco slowly moved closer to Harry, grinning against his ear. “Hmm, when she comes, I'll be able to fuck you hard again, none of this gentle rubbish,” he joked, earning a grin from those delectable lips, and a thump to his chest for being stupid. “But I’m serious, I’ll ride that tight arse of yours until it’s raw, but for now…” His lips curved over the tip of Harry's lobe, his tongue darting inside to leave a teasing trail of saliva. “I think slow and steady and relaxed is just as good…”  
  
  
  
Harry shuddered, not entirely sure he _was_ in the mood at that moment but arching his neck to feel more of that breath, that voice on the tendons of his throat regardless. _What he is talking about, it’s not fucking it’s…_ He flushed darkly, remembering the few times before when it hadn’t been raw, unbridled need and passion. _Draco bloody Malfoy wants to make love to me – again!_  
  
  
  
A low, gasping sound left his throat and he seized a fistful of Draco’s hair. He’d never really thought about it before, not since Draco had said that it shouldn’t matter to anyone else but them. It was a staggering thought, that he’d been made love to, and not really realised. _It’s because it felt as natural as breathing,_ Harry thought, his last dazed thought before the sound of someone clearing their throat interrupted their moment.  
  
  
  
Harry felt Draco stiffen and then draw back gently, without releasing his hold on his waist. There, to Harry’s mortification, stood Severus Snape, dark brow raised and mouth tipped up derisively at the corner.  
  
  
  
“You have a rather fine set of rooms for yourselves, a quidditch pitch, and fifty acres of garden – and yet you choose to cavort in the foyer, where anyone can stumble across you?” Snape murmured, his tone a tad scolding, “We are not all voyeurs, Draco – and your pregnant spouse should be kept off his feet not dragged across the floor in your display of passion.”  
  
  
  
Harry ducked his head, glancing up at Draco briefly before taking the hint Severus made and moving over to the adjoining living area and plonking himself down on the couch. He tried to ignore the odd look Snape gave him as he laid a hand on his belly and was grateful when the man spoke again; breaking the odd silence that had fallen since they’d followed him into the lounge.   
  
  
  
“I… It is _difficult,_ Draco,” Snape began, still watching Harry oddly. “You remember the offer I made, of course, a month or so ago now, to have your… _problem_ rectified without interference from the ministry?”  
  
  
  
Harry watched Draco stiffen, realising why Snape’s eyes were on him now. They were going to talk about a solution to get rid of Lucius…  
  
  
  
“I have looked into it; one of your old acquaintances has in fact found himself quite high up in the ministry, an administrator to the…more _permanent_ solutions for some growing dark wizards in the world. He is…discreet and moreover, he will get the job done without it being traced back to you.” Snape finally tore his gaze from Harry and stared into Draco’s eyes, cautiously proceeding, not wishing to hurt the boy he’d watched over for twenty-one years.  
  
  
  
“Let me help you, Draco?” Snape whispered, almost pleading. Harry had never heard Snape pleading, except…in those memories he had seen, him pleading Voldemort for Lily potter’s life, but they didn’t speak of that, not ever. _He must love Draco,_ Harry thought. _He must love Draco and Narcissa just as he loved my mother – albeit in different ways._ He silenced his thoughts then as he saw Draco’s lips move soundlessly, indicating his attempts at speech.  
  
  
  
“I suppose I don't have any other choice, and after this little escapade today, my views have changed in any case.” Draco's eyes grew narrow then, more stern, _certain_. “I want nothing more than to kill him, even if he is my blood, he isn't my father…and he never will be.” Draco moved his hand over Harry's shoulder then, still looking at Snape. “I promised Harry I’d protect him, and I'll do whatever it takes now.”  
  
  
  
Snape surveyed the man this boy had become with badly concealed surprise. Draco’s sudden change of heart was unbelievable. Before he was unable to even contemplate the notion, but now…  
  
  
  
“What changed?” Snape asked.  
  
  
  
“I've come to realise that even if our daughter arrives safely, _He_ will still come after her. I didn't see past her birth before, but looking at it after today, he is never going to stop and I can't afford to lose Harry or my daughter.” Both Harry and Snape seemed almost relieved at the decision. In the end, it was doubtless that someone’s life would have to be taken and better Lucius’s than any of theirs. “Still,” Draco added quietly, “I don’t want to do it myself…so… You do what you can, Severus.”  
  
  
  
Severus regarded him closely for a moment before he took a cautious step forward, placing both hands on Draco’s shoulders and squeezing firmly. This was as close to an embrace as they would ever get, Harry imagined, but the feelings were there. Snape was more of a father to him than Lucius Malfoy had ever been.  
  
  
  
“I will arrange it, I will deal with the _how_ and the _where,_ however…there is something that you and Harry must… The condition was that you and Harry attend a special…party of sorts. You see our ‘payment’ will be the publicity the host gains from having the two of you attend.” Snape’s onyx gaze flicked to Harry briefly, before focusing solely on Draco. “I am very surprised you have not yet asked _who_ the host is. He won’t of course know why we want Lucius eliminated however; he knows we wish to be rid of him.”  
  
  
  
With a menacingly careful look becoming Snape’s features, Harry could not help but feel the unease rise up in his throat like bile. He swallowed hard around the anxiety. “So tell us, already,” Harry bit out, sitting back on the settee when he realised he was leaning on the edge in anticipation, running his fingers lightly over his stomach. “Stop dragging it out for dramatic effect.   
  
  
  
Snape gave him a scowl very reminiscent of fifth year potions then, before he said reticently, “The host, the man in question is Jeremy Dewglas.”  
  
  
  
Harry frowned in utter confusion.  
  
  
  
“There is no other way, without taking him out ourselves, Draco,” Snape said warningly.  
  
  
  
Harry’s bewilderment was only heightened then, when Snape’s cautiousness was explained by Draco’s hands clenching into tense, white-knuckled fists. A growl of frustration rumbled past his lips. Heaving himself off the couch despite the lingering weakness in his legs, Harry studied Draco’s furious face before tipping his head to Snape. “I don’t understand,” Harry said guardedly, “Who is Jeremy Dewglas? And why is Draco so…well…” He gestured empathically to his silently raging husband, but it was Draco who answered, not Snape.   
  
  
  
“He’s that bloody pansy who had his hands all over your stomach, or have you forgotten?” Draco grunted, shoving his hands roughly into his pockets and turning his face away from Harry to walk over to the fireplace. “I don't like that man,” Draco announced, to Snape’s surprise. He had known that Draco wasn't fond of him; still, it was unlike him to be so open with his feelings. Then again, with the changes Draco had endured recently, Snape shouldn't have expected any less.  
  
  
  
Snape made a low, exasperated sound and gestured towards Draco. Harry's brow knotted with a frown but still he approached his husband regardless. “Why are you being so ridiculous? I’m hardly going to run into his bedroom while we’re there, am I? Don’t be such a pleb, Draco.” The blond whirled to face him, a scowl twisting his features and Harry raised his chin. “And I hadn’t bloody forgotten, he was _so_ significant to my life, after all,” he bit out sarcastically, the stress finally bubbling under the surface and reacting horribly with the hormones.  
  
  
  
Beside them, Snape cleared his throat, evidently uncomfortable.  
  
  
  
Draco glared at Harry, but said nothing while Severus was still present. “So this, what did you call it…party? Explain a bit more, would you?” Draco asked Severus then, moving back across the room to take a seat on the settee, where Harry joined him. “Well?” He demanded when Severus remained silent.  
  
  
  
Snape moved in front of the boys. “This party will most probably be held inside the manor somewhere, which means…”  
  
  
  
“Which means?” Draco repeated in confusion.  
  
  
  
“Which means,” Snape continued, giving Harry a look, “That the party will be on _our_ terms on our territory, but that also heightens the likelihood that the deed…” He paused a moment, considering Draco carefully. “That _Lucius_ will fall here also.”  
  
  
  
Harry froze at those words, feeling Draco tense beside him. He swore he _heard_ Draco swallow anxiously. “Where is your reasoning there?” Harry asked the professor.  
  
  
  
“A big party, a festivity with which Lucius will (no doubt) wish to make a spectacle of. Also, you forget, he is banned from the manor as a family member but with the wards down to allow guests…”  
  
  
  
“He can find a loophole in,” Harry finished, horrified at the thought of being so open to attack after what had happened at St Mungo’s. But did they really have a choice? What if they left it and left it and something happened to…? He shook his head. They couldn’t allow that to happen.   
  
  
  
Besides, the taste, the _need_ for revenge was still thick in his mouth.  
  
  
  
Slowly, he slid his hand across to rub Draco’s knee, careless that Professor Snape was watching. If the bastard tricked them into getting pregnant then he could watch a bit of affection or comfort.  
  
  
  
“I…I didn't really want it to be _done_ anywhere near me,” Draco replied quietly. “When I agreed, I had imagined that you would take care of it away from here and it would be as though he just disappeared.” Draco's hand rushed up to press on the front of his forehead, where the beginning of a headache was brewing. “Why isn't _anything_ in my life straight forward?!” He grumbled. “Fine then, I don't see that I have any choice here do I?”  
  
  
  
At least if it were on his own grounds it would be easier to keep a close watch over Harry. He knew his father, he was ruthless, the sort of person who, even if on the brink of death, would find a way to take Harry down with him. Anything for revenge. That was certainly how Lucius Malfoy operated.  
  
  
  
“It’ll be fine,” Harry murmured, weary all of a sudden as he rubbed Draco’s thigh. “It’ll all be over soon and we can forget all this,” he promised, not knowing what else to say when all he could think of was finding the bitch that’d poisoned him and ripping her apart. He closed his eyes then, inhaling shakily at the unease that swept through his body. “I…have a bad feeling about this…this party,” he said then, eyes still closed. The room seemed to want to lurch whenever he attempted to open them. “And not just because you’ll be putting my fat arse on display for all the media, or because of your dad, it all just feels… _strange_ , like something’s going to go wrong…”  
  
  
  
“All the more reason to hold the gathering on our own grounds,” Snape said, surveying Harry’s punctured arm carefully.   
  
  
  
“Don’t ask,” Harry said quickly, still feeling oddly drained. But that was his magic being drained to supplement what his daughter had lost, wasn’t it? “Seems Lucius is even trying medical warfare now,” he laughed weakly, opening his eyes again so that he could see how Draco was dealing with this all.  
  
  
  
“Hmm, Severus, if you don't mind and there isn't much more to discuss, I would really like to tend to Harry. He doesn't look good and he really needs to rest.” Harry flinched. He _was_ in the room as well! Why did Draco always talk about him in as if he were absent?  
  
  
  
Severus lowered his head, even though he had much more to speak about, he considered Draco carefully and decided maybe it was best to discuss such matters with Draco later, when they were all up to it. After what they had faced this morning, the last thing they needed was more troubles laid on their shoulders, particularly Harry.  
  
  
  
“One last thing, Severus. When will this _party_ be held?” Draco asked, glancing from Harry to Snape every now and again.  
  
  
  
“That really depends on how quickly you want this over with,” Snape began, but was cut short by Harry’s interruption.  
  
  
  
“As soon as possible!” He declared, “If they…what they did to me today is going to make me weaker then I don’t want to wait around and worry while I’m drained a little more everyday. Arrange it for as soon as wizardly bloody possible, get this over and done with before all this stress makes my daughter shrivel up like a dried prune!” He stopped then, eyes wide, surprising himself with the outburst.   
  
  
  
“Sorry,” he murmured then, his head slumping on his shoulders and his hand rubbing his aching forehead. It hurt, in a way it hadn’t hurt since Voldemort had taken to spying in his head. _They really did poison me,_ he thought, swearing he could still feel the life-altering serum pumping through his veins, the tendons at his temples. But he knew it was impossible. His cheeks flushed a bit at his hormonal outburst, but Draco and Snape said nothing. They were probably watching him as if he were _mad_ …  
  
  
  
“I just don’t want what happened to me to happen to _her_ ,” he murmured softly, warily. Surprising himself again with his words but _knowing_ they were the truth. “I don’t want her to be in hiding for the first seventeen years of her life like I was. I don’t want her first memory to be me dying or screaming or some…some _freak_ trying to kill her. I was never safe, I was never…” He felt Draco’s hand on his forearm, felt his thumb brushing over his skin tenderly, and felt something within him ease, but pressed on regardless, he had to say it, while he still had the nerve.  
  
  
  
“I don’t want her to grow up without me, or you to look after her,” he breathed, his words nearly lost to the slight, early January breeze whisking in through the windows. He shivered, but knew better than to think it was the cold that shook him. The thought of how his mother must have felt as she ran up those stairs to protect him from Voldemort, knowing the fear, determination, and hopelessness she must’ve felt – it made Harry’s chest ache.   
  
  
  
What if they hid and cowered as his parents were forced to? It was only a matter of time before Lucius and his pawns found them, trapped them like dogs in their own home and then the whole sad, tragedy would repeat itself all over again. Maybe Lucius would spare Draco from death, at least, but the image would not leave his mind. Lucius Malfoy standing there, Harry between him and the baby – _his_ baby this time. Harry in the place of his mother. He could not help but choke on his own breath as he picture the vibrant, deathly light of Lucius’s wand turning on them…  
  
  
  
Suddenly, Draco shifted beside him and Harry jumped, snapped back from his nightmarish daydream.  
  
  
  
“Then, if it's okay with Draco, I can arrange for it to _take place_ in a few weeks,” Severus said. Draco felt a chill brush over his neck at those words, realising the sincerity in them and the freezing doubt that remained hit him like a bucket of ice. When his hand touched upon Harry's hand at last, it warmed him all over, chasing away the bitter cold that any thought of Lucius had left him with. “Yes, the sooner the better.” He spoke gravely. For he was not ready, but realised there was no choice. When could you _ever_ be ready for something like that? You couldn't and he knew Harry could attest to that.   
  
  
  
Snape bowed his head low, glancing between Harry and Draco carefully before making his way toward the floo. “Your mother asked me to let you know that she will be back to discuss a few things with you, Draco,” Severus said and then, he was gone.  
  
  
  
Draco looked to Harry with narrow eyes then and Harry jumped. “Can I ask you something, Harry?” Draco began. Harry nodded, wondering what would make his husband’s eyes seem so conflicted. “My mother and Severus, do you…do you think that they…?” He stuttered, not sure what he felt about the thoughts that had plagued him recently. He hated his father, he knew that much. But he wasn’t sure how he felt about replacing him with someone else, even if that person was more of a father then Lucius had ever been. “That they are…a…a couple?”  
  
  
  
Harry smirked, despite the mood of the day. “I think that they’ve been in each other’s company a lot since we got married – being partners in crime and worrying for you must’ve brought them together I suppose, but…” He trailed off thoughtfully, laying a hand on his belly when he felt the baby move, relieved at the soft kick. She was still alright.  
  
  
  
“I suppose we’ll know if they’re a couple or not by the time this party or ball thing happens, right?” He suggested, waggling his eyebrows suggestively as he used the arm of the settee as leverage to push himself up onto his feet. He needed a bath, maybe Draco wrapped round him in the bath and definitely some of that muscle relaxant. Draco could probably use some too…  
  
  
  
“What do you mean?!” The blond demanded as he came to his side.   
  
  
  
Harry beamed. “Well, we’ll see if Professor Snape asks your mum to dance, won’t we?” He chuckled, approaching the grand staircase. They both really needed that bath now.  
  
  
  
 _  
  
~To Be Continued..._


	24. Whispering Endearments

[Twenty-Four]  
  
 **Whispering Endearments**  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
“Hmmmm!” Harry groaned deep in his throat, his head tossing at the sensations rippling up through his legs. It felt like every tight knot was being twisted free. “Hnnn,” that sound was more of a low purr and he closed his eyes, fingers knotting in the sheets, his toes curling in bliss. “So bloody nice,” he panted, “ _Harder_!” He swore he heard Draco chuckle and Harry laid a hand on the little, black fluff ball on his chest, scratching Spinks’s ears as his entire body shuddering, relaxing in the warmth that spread through him.   
  
  
  
The kitten on his chest stretched and yawned widely, before tilting her head into his caresses lazily. Ah, the life of a spoilt kitten, he thought, feeling quite like an indulging, pampered house-cat right now. “Hmmm, Draco – _more_!” He murmured then and cried out as he felt Draco’s deft fingers twist just right into the knot on his right foot. He opened his eyes then, sparkling, green gaze seeing Draco’s soft expression. He smiled sheepishly.  
  
  
  
“Feels nice,” he admitted. He had begun this by complaining that the party (scheduled that night) was going to be nothing but a nightlong humiliation in the company of people he hated and would torment his swollen feet even further. This part of pregnancy definitely wasn’t fun. Well, the massage had been. He’d scarcely moved the last few weeks and when he had his suddenly paranoid husband had been as his shadow, as if Harry would spontaneously drop any moment. Still, he’d somehow managed to get sore feet and legs.  
  
  
  
“Don’t stop,” Harry prompted sheepishly, seeing Draco’s expression and guessing the blond hadn’t anticipated such a reaction to a foot rub. “Feels nice,” he tried again, but when that relaxed tone didn’t work, he tried for playful. “Come on, spoil me some more?”  
  
  
  
“ _Spoil you_ , hmm?” Draco teased, his tone a lot lower than normal, deep and husky as he mouthed the tops of Harry’s toes. He watched as Harry gasped. “You like that?” Harry shuddered as that tongue weaved in and out of each digit on his right foot. “Hmm, the Chosen One, defeated by a foot massage. Who would have ever guessed?” He could hear Harry's frustration rumble through his chest, but carried on regardless, dragging his tongue over his foot and up the blue vein there.  
  
  
  
Draco slowly climbed nearer and took Harry's right leg between his hands, brushing kisses all along the offering of flesh. He left thin trails of spittle over ever curve and breathed heavily over that flushed skin. “Shaved legs are much more appealing to me, even on a man,” Draco pointed out, recalling that even before Harry had shaved them to wear that naughty outfit a few weeks ago, he hadn’t been that hairy. “I like the feel of your bare skin against my tongue,” Draco admitted huskily, clawing gently over Harry’s hips. But then, suddenly, Harry’s hand shot down, snatching hold of his wrist, stilling his movement.  
  
  
  
Green eyes glistened with passion, fixed on Draco for a quiet moment, before he supported himself on one elbow, never releasing Draco’s hand as he leant up, their lips a hairsbreadth apart. He blinked, searching smouldering grey eyes, feeling Draco tense as he stilled. And then, Harry spanned the miniscule gap, smashing their lips together. His groans were swallowed by that mouth, his words muffled by that virile tongue, which slid the length of his, tantalising his tastes but until he swore his mouth watered.  
  
  
  
How had things changed so drastically?  
  
  
  
Their lips broke apart with a breathless smatter of spittle and Harry groaned, grinding his hips back against Draco’s leg, the sweet friction making little flames break out over his flesh. He raked his fingertips down the back of Draco’s head, his neck and shoulders, and when the blond arched back in response Harry leant up to mouth his adam’s apple. Breath caught in the pale throat he was attacking and he smiled, dizzy with emotion as he grazed the corner of Draco’s jaw, just under his ear.  
  
  
  
“I hate how you make me lose control just by opening that gob of yours,” he murmured against his husband’s flesh, which grew hot under his lips.  
  
  
  
“And I love how you lose control, especially when I’m not even trying,” Draco hissed beaming. His arms wrapped around Harry's back and he tugged him close. “Hmm, you know, I might not be in the mood for sex. Aren’t you even going to ask me?” Draco joked, although he sounded quite serious and Harry stopped, taken back.  
  
  
  
Harry growled under his breath then as he caught the intention in those stormy eyes. He knew what game they were playing now. “Is Draco Malfoy, king of sex saying he can’t get it up for me?” Harry murmured, trying to taunt Draco into action, but those perfect lips tipped up in a knowing smirk. There was nothing for it. He returned his mouth to trace the shape of Draco’s collarbone, flicking his gaze up to Draco’s face briefly as he breathed hotly over an erect bud. “Take me,” he whispered, biting a pink nipple gently. “W-Want you to – to take me, to… Bloody hell, Draco, don’t make me ask. _Touch me_!”  
  
  
  
“I'm not making you, but you said you would never ask me, so…are you prepared to put your pride aside and beg for me then?” He asked, a glint in his eye. “Because I'm really not in the mood unless you– Ahh!” Draco broke off then, as a wet orifice slid over his ear and a hot tongue bathed his lobe. His eyes went narrow and a dark flush swept over his cheeks. Reluctantly, he pushed Harry back slightly. “Well,” he said, a hang covering his abused ear as if to protect it. He didn't look so smug now, just agitated. “Ask me for it then?” He repeated.  
  
  
  
Harry frowned, almost a pout as leant up so that their mouths were barely touching. Fair was fair, he supposed and though it was in jest, there was a flicker of insecurity in Draco’s voice. He saw Draco’s eyes flutter shut as he breathed his answer onto those lips. “Take me. I’m asking, alright? I don’t want a fuck – I want more, want…want everything you can give me,” he panted. Draco groaned and tensed, his breathing laboured but he did not answer and Harry let out a noise of disdain.   
  
  
  
Crawling out from under Draco, Harry rolled onto his knees, propping himself up on his forearms to present his arse shamelessly. “Please?” He murmured and before he could draw another breath, Draco had grabbed his shoulder and rolled him onto his back once more. Harry stared up at the blond towering over him, searching those eyes for a clue as to what Draco was doing. “Does that mean just _not like that_ or does it mean _not at all_?” He asked simply, despite his flushed cheeks.   
  
  
  
Draco laid Harry back carefully into the pillows with an unsure smile. “You know, I've been waiting for so long for you to say that and actually mean it, and well…for me to feel like you really mean it. So…I want to do it this way,” Draco said, starting slowly as he pressed his lips down against Harry's cherry-tinted ones. They basked in the tender moment as long as possible, their lashes fluttering against their cheeks, falling into each other, as if there were no barriers of skin or bone between their hearts any longer. Draco swore he felt their frantically thudding hearts wrap around each other as earnestly as their lips now did. Only when their eyes opened again (breaking the trance) did the kiss end.  
  
  
  
Trying not to rest any amount of his weight on Harry’s stomach, Draco held him. His hand slowly stroked over Harry's cheekbone, feeling the warmth of a blush there as his other hand traced the soft hair at the back of his neck. Harry hadn't known such a warm touch like this before, not from anyone besides Draco anyway and he found himself nuzzling into it without realising.  
  
  
  
“Remember that dream I had, about your hair?” Harry murmured sheepishly, feeling oddly forthcoming with those tender touches making love to his face, his neck, such insignificant, yet sensitive places. “When you heard me talking in my sleep?” Draco didn’t answer with words, merely reached back to cup Harry’s neck, supporting the honey-kissed column as he pressed his nose to his husband’s throat. He inhaled his musky scent, brushing his nose up over Harry’s cheek until his lips rested on the bridge of Harry’s nose.  
  
  
  
“This…this was what it felt like,” Harry admitted, breath stolen from his lungs at the tender, familiar feelings – and yet they were different somehow, so different it robbed him of everything but the most basic of senses.   
  
  
  
Draco moved his lips over Harry's eyelids, carefully kissing them, then back over his cheek, his nose, everywhere. His words seemed to have caught in his throat. The mere fantasy of having the person he loved dreaming about him, and in such an intense and intimate way made him feel a mixture of things he couldn't explain. And he didn’t have to.   
  
  
  
Reaching his hand into his hair, Draco tugged the hair tie out of it, allowing the white-blond locks to spill out over his shoulders. He leant back down, his hair a golden curtain around their faces and his grey eyes sharp and focussed solely on the one person who meant the world to him. Who _was_ the world to him.  
  
  
  
Draco’s warm palms held Harry's cheeks as he slowly dropped his hungry mouth back to Harry’s skin, caressing along the shape of his collarbone with his lips and up his neck. He worried the frantic pulse beneath his tongue, nuzzling the soft earlobe as he whispered softly, slowly, quietly, “You want me to make love to you, my kitten?” Inwardly, Draco chuckled as the word 'kitten' slipped through his lips, but it made Harry shudder regardless.  
  
  
  
Harry let out a low noise that caught in his throat, a sound between a groan and a gasp and he turned his head to the side, embarrassed by Draco’s brazen use of the words ‘make love’ and the sudden pet-name. But still, Draco’s tone, his fingers feathering out over his chest made his skin hum, his heart thud madly under that hot palm and he inhaled deeply, his mouth suddenly dry. _Under different circumstances, could this have been what our first time_ might _have been like?_ He flushed furiously at the thought, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips.  
  
  
  
“Yes,” he answered at last, his voice croaky. “Yes, I want you to…”  
  
  
  
With that Draco moved, his hands burning with a steady and slow passion as he reached up under Harry's shirt, pulling it up over his head carefully. He kissed him again. In between, and sometimes at the same time as he undressed him leisurely. He reached down for Harry's lower garments, which were just loose to accommodate the swell of his stomach and pulled off easily.  
  
  
  
Before he could, he felt Harry reaching for his own shirt and he lifted his arms easily, allowing Harry to pull it for him before ducking back down to press their lips together. The silence was somehow stunning, more intimate. The moment felt surreal, like a dream and the cool air whisking in through the slightly open window glided down over the sides of their bodies, like a gentle kiss from the outside world, reminding them that this was real.  
  
  
  
“Nice,” Harry whispered senselessly, wrapping his legs around Draco’s waist as much as his stomach allowed, tugging at the fabric of Draco’s underwear with the toes Draco had teased earlier. “Off,” he grunted, nipping at his husband’s lower lip, his cock arching up and pressing into the blond’s thigh. He wanted to feel Draco’s body sliding over his from head to toe, wanted to grind his cock up into Draco’s hardness. His own erection drooled clear fluid at the thought.   
  
  
  
“W-Want to feel you,” he murmured, choking on desire, his fingers gliding into Draco’s glossy locks.   
  
  
  
“Be patient,” Draco teased, nibbling on Harry's bottom lip while those toes tugged his trousers clean off his legs. “Hmm, you seem to like it best when our naked bodies are against each other like this. _Close_ ,” Draco whispered. Harry said nothing but shivered when Draco's lips pressed to his stomach, kissing it, like every other part of Harry now on show. Loving him, adoring him, the way he had always deserved to be. There was so much love in his hands as they moved over him, taking him in, caressing every scar and freckle, expressing the depths of his want with touch rather than words.  
  
  
  
Harry cried out then, spreading his legs eagerly, his toes curling in the duvet. “L-Love – love your hands,” he breathed, Draco’s hair cascading over his shoulders and trailing over Harry’s stomach as his breath danced over Harry’s twitching erection. “Love your voice and your hair,” he panted, squirming in the sheets when Draco’s hot mouth descended. Harry’s entire body tensed, his blood like lava boiling under his skin as Draco’s lips fell on his smooth inner-thigh, his cheek _just_ brushing over his cock. But the searing yet tender kisses, they focused on his tense thighs and Harry ran his fingers through Draco’s hair again, gripping him like a lifeline in the ferocious tide of pleasure.  
  
  
  
“Hmm, if you want you can hold my hair while I hold…your cock,” Draco panted mouthing that flesh still, his eyes darkened with something between lust and passion as he wavered over that heated place. “You want me…want me to press my lips to your cock?” Draco half-asked, half-teased, his other hand already having slipped lower to roll his balls gently in his palm.  
  
  
  
Harry tossed his head from side-to-side, frantic for more. He licked his lips, gathering the taste of Draco off them as he simply nodded, his fingers knotting in Draco’s hair. He never knew it could feel like this, being touched, being adored so genuinely. He’d enjoyed a lot of their times together, especially as they’d grown closer, grown more civil but this blew everything out the window. _Love, making love, that’s what Draco called it_ , Harry thought, even as the haze of bliss settled, fogging up his vision. He’d heard silly romantic ideals but he never imagined the feelings would be this intense.  
  
  
  
He’d never imagined he’d ever feel like this. Weightless, free, like flying only hot and undulating underneath Draco’s body. Draco, who he suddenly felt more connected to than anyone ever before him…  
  
  
  
“Everything. I want – want everything, every inch of you. Everything you have, I want it,” he gasped out hurriedly as if he would never have the chance to feel this again, this perfect connection, this worship. As if it were the first and last time all in once instance. His fingers tightened in Draco’s hair.  
  
  
  
Draco's lips mouthed the tip, slowly flicking his tongue against the slit. Harry shuddered madly at the brief touch, his penis hot and desperate for more attention. Draco thought Harry was about to arch into him and pulled away before he could do so. “Hmm, I love this,” Draco groaned, now rubbing Harry's organ against his cheek softly. “Every single inch of your perfect cock. Just delicious,” he breathed, taking that cock back into his mouth with ease, using his other hand (the one not fondling his balls) to stroke down the foreskin.   
  
  
  
Harry’s toes curled as Draco’s moist heat enveloped him hot, that tongue flickered out of those lips at last and hit the base of his cock, torturing the pulsing vein on the underside for a fleeting second. But Draco was already set on a mission and Harry’s cock was soon forgotten when that blond head swept lower, his lover’s legs opening to accept him. “I'm going to rim you, Harry,” Draco stated.  
  
  
  
Harry nodded impatiently, that hot breath dancing over his most private of places. He urged his legs wider, eager to feel everything Draco had to give. Cracking open his eyes to stare down at his husband, green orbs glazed with lust, Harry watched Draco’s deft fingers lay over his swollen stomach that prevented him from getting the best view. Their daughter kicked lightly as if she felt Draco there and Harry swore he felt Draco smile against his hot skin, but otherwise the moment went ignored.  
  
  
  
This moment was just for them it seemed, and Harry was grateful for it. It felt like they were the only people in the world right now.  
  
  
  
Then Draco’s other hand slid beneath him, coaxing a plush cushion under his hips before flicking his tongue over that winking hole. The heated ring twitched eagerly against that sweet slick muscle and Harry groaned unrestrainedly, tossing his head at the delirious wave of pleasure. “Hmmm – more! So – so amazing. Make me go mad, _please_!” He wanted to be driven so high he could do nothing but _feel._  
  
  
  
“ _Merlin,_ I love it when you're honest, when you talk like that.” Draco's humid words steaming over that place below, the only warning before his tongue swept against it, piercing the tight, wrinkled pucker. “Hmm, you're tight today,” he acknowledged huskily and Harry winced, wriggling down against his face for more. “I want you to show me how honest you can be while I eat you out,” Draco breathed, his eyes narrowed, fixed on that one area of flesh. And with a plunge his tongue delved in, flicking against the little pink pucker, lathing it with teasing lashes. He pushed in then as deep as he could go, using his fingers to spread the twitching entrance wider for his assault. He felt his cock ache at the sight of the open, pink hole. “So hot…fuck…I could cum just from the sight of you…”  
  
  
  
Releasing the flesh so it clamped tightly around his questing tongue, triggering an onslaught of gasping spasms in Harry. So Draco repeated the motion, massaging his arse cheeks firmly as he tormented the impatient hole. Harry's head swung side-to-side, practically wild with lust, like an animal that was impossible to tame.  
  
  
  
“Bloody brilliant!” Harry growled out, his fingers knotting in the sheets now, smiling breathlessly as he welcomed Draco’s tongue deeper into his body. “Want you – _so badly,_ I want – I want…” He lost his world in the swelling passion, arching into Draco’s mouth. “Let me – let me taste you?” He breathed, pushing gently at those shoulders.  
  
  
  
Draco's head shot up at that. “You want to…to rim me?” Draco asked, slightly surprised, Harry had only done it a few times, after all. He saw Harry nod in response and smiled. “But then I'd have to lay there and be the bottom.” Draco grunted at the idea, he wasn’t in the mood to be subservient today, he preferred their natural roles. Then an idea came to him and he climbed over his husband, carefully turning and setting his legs either side of Harry’s shoulders. “Here…it's called a sixty-nine. It means we can both do it at the same time–”   
  
  
  
“I know what it is!” Harry spluttered and Draco grinned.   
  
  
  
“Get to it then, _Malfoy,_ ” Draco murmured.  
  
  
  
Resolute, determined, Harry slid his hands up over those pale cheeks, his fingers trailing feather-light over that skin. “Hmm,” he hummed at the sight, feeling Draco shiver at the barely-there touch. “Perfect,” he whispered, his breath skittering over Draco’s flesh. “Shiver for me,” he murmured and smirked when Draco let out a heavy gasp, responding by tickling Harry’s slick entrance with a smooth fingertip. Harry tensed with anticipation, squeezing Draco’s arse cheeks hard in reward. He swore he heard a low chuckle leave his husband’s lips and then that teasing finger slid into him.  
  
  
  
His tight, hot walls clenched around Draco’s finger, swallowing him greedily while Harry cried out. He spread those peachy cheeks then in return, laving that impossibly tight, pink pucker generously with his tongue. His, all his, an intimacy Draco had never allowed anyone but him. He felt a light, _warm_ feeling swell in his chest and he lapped shamelessly, _ravenously_ at that flesh like a starving man at a water pool.  
  
  
  
For the first time he appreciated what it felt like, to have something belong to him and to belong to someone exclusively, to be wanted and cherished so much. He wanted Draco to feel that too, wanted him to feel wanted, wanted him to _feel_ how Harry couldn’t get enough of him. And by the way the body above his trembled, he guessed the message was registering.   
  
  
  
Draco's heart caught in his throat. Even though the idea of this position while _making love_ never seemed as though it could be a romantic one, it was, and more than that, the intensity rushing over him, was overwhelming him. It was like he couldn't stop, like Harry wanted him, like he was all that mattered with Harry's hands touching him of their own accord, without being forced or coerced. Touching simply because Harry wanted him.  
  
  
  
Draco sank backwards onto Harry's mouth then, shuddering and groaning aloud shamelessly. His head felt light and for a moment, he was lost in the pleasure, the pure white bliss of Harry devouring him as if he could not get enough. His head swung forward and his blond locks fell against Harry’s spread thighs. Desperate to return the favour, he ducked his head to capture the leaking head of Harry’s arousal in his mouth, while his finger pressed ardently into that clenching orifice.  
  
  
  
“Hmm, deeper,” Harry pleaded against that wrinkled opening, prising it open gently with his fingertips. He groaned at the sight. “God, you’re so pink and hot in here.” He knew Draco was blushing at that and smirked hungrily, stabbing at that tender little place with a ravenous tongue. That wriggling finger curled and massaged his pleasure spot generously, making him writhe and groan against that sweet hole under the mercy of his mouth.  
  
  
  
A second finger joined the first inside of Harry then, stretching him open and Harry brought his own forefinger to his mouth, lathering it with saliva before sliding it into Draco’s impossible tightness. “Bloody hell,” he gasped in awe and appreciation, watching that pink place swallow him eagerly. “You’re so tight! You feel amazing inside!” He declared, making sure Draco knew, his own entrance clenching around the digits scissoring him open gently at the sight before him.  
  
  
  
“F-Fuck…!” Draco gasped. Harry's touch was so tender and yet so insistent, for a moment he lost control. “Fuck, please! More!” He pleaded, his mouth pressing down firmer now to suck Harry’s hardness into the back of his throat. He groaned around it, a third finger sliding into Harry's hole.  
  
  
  
Bobbing his head over the throbbing organ, Draco’s eyes slid shut, his throat convulsing purposefully around him. He had never paid attention to the taste and texture so much before, but Harry's penis was smooth against his tongue, a little scattered with the ridges of veins, pulsing and warm. The taste was so fresh and musky, like his skin anywhere else, yet sweeter. But not as sweet as the cries he was wrenching from Harry’s throat, the very ones he could feel vibrating against his arse.  
  
  
  
“Fuck, Harry…so hot, so hard, please…more fingers…?”  
  
  
  
“Yes,” Harry hissed deliciously, “You’re so beautiful…” Another slick finger slid into Draco’s body, prising him open gently to allow his tongue to slide in deeper. He slid his free hand down, cupping Draco’s neglected, weeping cock and rubbing it gently, his fingertip smoothing the globule of pre-emission over the purpling helmet. Tugging Draco’s foreskin back then to tease the glans, he lapped at where Draco’s quivering entrance was swallowing his fingers, adding a third to the stretching hole.  
  
  
  
“I can’t believe how tight you are,” he panted, his words strangled by pleasure as Draco hummed gratifyingly over his own prick, curling those fingers into his prostate until his entire body was tense with the overwhelming pleasure. “Oh, Christ! I – I can’t take it!”  
  
  
  
“Hmmnn, you can't take it? Want me to stop?” Draco teased, pulling back from his organ and dribbling spittle over the sensitive tip. Harry’s body arched manically in response and Draco knew he didn't want him to stop. That was the last thing either of them wanted. But Draco wanted to hear it as well as see it. “Tell me, Harry. Talk to me, I love your voice,” he admitted, his fingertips tickling the flesh of Harry’s thighs and hips.   
  
  
  
“Yours too,” Harry choked out, “So bloody amazing, makes me feel so hot – makes me, makes me…” He lost his words in the tumult of white-hot pleasure and with a cry of negation at Draco’s teasing; he rolled onto his side, fisting his own cock desperately. “L-Lay behind me, against me and take me – can’t wait anymore, please?” His voice made him blush to hear, breathy, hungry, and shameless. He closed his eyes then in preparation for his following words, turning his cheek into the pillows to hide his face as he let out a whispering murmur of, “M-Make love to me, inside me…?”  
  
  
  
Draco groaned in agreement, moving around to position himself over Harry once more. “I want to see you,” he said when Harry tried to roll onto his knees. He pushed him back over gently, parting his legs. “I want to look into your eyes.” He said again, a red blush streaking across Harry's face. Draco spread those cheeks then, guiding his swollen erection to the valley between. “Lay back and relax,” he said to Harry, watching his husband sink into the pillow. Carefully, he pressed into that wanton orifice, watching the flesh slowly swallow him as he did so.  
  
  
  
Harry let out a high-pitched groan that was nearly a whimper, his eyes fluttering shut and his head turning to the side as he felt his body open and tremble around the invading heat of Draco’s body. He’d never felt so close to someone before; this was everything he’d never dared to dream he’d have. A firm pressure on his chin turned his head back into place and when his eyes opened he saw Draco’s face, a hairsbreadth from his own, demanding his gaze.  
  
  
  
“‘S nice,” he managed out, his words almost lost to the blissful haze as they danced over Draco’s mouth. Harry leant up, touching his lips to Draco’s gently before laying back, welcoming Draco deeper into his body. “Nice and slow…”  
  
  
  
His fingers smoothed up Draco’s tense biceps, grazing the muscle either side of him with his nails as he surrendered to every sensation. His saliva-slicked channel swallowed Draco’s thickness eagerly and Harry spread his legs wider in invitation, his toes clawing at the sheets in release of his thrill. He’d never felt anything so amazing.  
  
  
  
The ridge of Draco's nose grazed Harry's. Silver and green locked together like steel and emerald. It was intense. Draco's fingers danced across Harry’s sweat-slicked skin as they rolled down to hold his hips, squeezing firmly when Draco pushed his cock deeper inside. “So tight, Harry!” He gasped, his body soon overcome with shivers as he tried to control his desires, hold himself back to allow Harry time to adjust.  
  
  
  
Harry's body was so hot, sucking him in. Wanting him. Needing him. Drawing him so close. Every now and again, Draco smoothed his palms over Harry’s full belly. His lips parted and he smiled slightly when he swung his head back with the surging, swarm of pleasure.   
  
  
  
“Hmm, yes, touch me! So good,” Harry encouraged breathily. He released Draco’s toned arms in favour of running his moist palms up and down his husband’s back and shoulders, touching him everywhere he could, hungry for every inch of him. “R-Remind me to tell Snape and your mum, t-thank you…for _this_ …!” He managed out with a shaky smile.   
  
  
  
Draco touched that enthralling place inside then, and sparks of electric heat burst all over Harry’s body. His cock was hard and drooling between their stomachs. He cried out brazenly, wrapping his arms around Draco’s neck and pressing his blazing cheek into Draco’s neck, rocking with his subtle thrusts.   
  
  
  
“N-Never thought you'd…be…be grateful for this,” Draco panted, his arms now resting either side of Harry and gripping the bed sheets below to balance himself as he grinded into Harry’s slick chute.  
  
  
  
Harry smiled again, his eyes closing slowly as Draco made love to him, hard and slow. He felt Draco’s breath on his cheeks, his skin sticking to him lightly, felt him swell inside of his body. He felt everything, in that moment. It was as if the rest of the world had faded into nothing, making him hyper-aware of the slightest sensation. Right down to the way that the beads of sweat trickled across his brow.  
  
  
  
“You – make me feel so – so _amazing,_ like I’m – I’m something so bloody incredible!” He turned his head to kiss Draco’s neck ardently, grazing his shoulder with his lips as the waves of passion took them, winding his words into incoherent platitudes and whispering endearments.  
  
  
  
Suddenly then, Draco turned his own head slightly to kiss Harry’s ear, one of his hands sliding between them to tug Harry’s foreskin back, revealing the pink, swollen helmet to his mercy. He stroked it quickly, still rocking leisurely into that sweet spot every time and Harry groaned unreservedly. “C-Can’t last. Too good!”  
  
  
  
“Hmm…don't cum yet,” he whispered over Harry’s ear, nibbling around the shell with small licks and nuzzles. Harry's head jerked into him in reaction, the shuddering ecstasy seemed too much and Draco could feel his cock swelling in his hand. “Hmm,” Draco hummed again, slowing the strokes right down so Harry could writhe in the prolonged bliss.  
  
  
  
As he moved in and out of him, still close with his arms wrapped around him, Harry's arm hooked around Draco's back, calling him nearer. Harry cried out senselessly, another sleek globule of pre-emission slick those thrusts over his prick. “You’re so hot inside. M-My cock feels hot in you…”  
  
  
  
“Oh, God!” Harry groaned out through clenched teeth. “I-It feels like I'm burning up!” He rocked back into those thrusts, circling his hips against Draco's, eagerly taking him all and urging them both towards climax. He felt his skin humming, his limbs tensing in anticipation and he turned his head into Draco's shoulder hard, his body wrought with spasms. “M-Make me – need to cum! Need you to cum inside – please! Can't - can't hold it!”  
  
  
  
“But I…I don't…don't want this to end! Hold it… _please_. Let me… _fuck_!” What was he thinking? He could barely hold on himself. The waves of pleasure shuddering over him were unreal; he was losing himself in him. “Harry, so close…so hot!” He could feel his cock melting inside Harry, faster now, those walls clenching around him in anticipation of completion. He breathed Harry in, dreaming of him while holding him and touching him frantically, as if to make sure this was real.  
  
  
  
“This is real isn't it? After…e-everything. This isn't a dream. I…fuck… _close_ …so…”  
  
  
  
“Better than a dream,” Harry choked out, kissing every inch of skin he could reach as he cock swelled between their bellies and his arse clenched down in a vice-grip, wet sloppy sounds narrating the joining of their bodies. “C-Can’t!” He cried out, his hands flying down then to seize Draco’s buttocks and pull him as deep into him as he could go, his hips gyrating back into those thrusts with abandon now. “C-Cumming! Cum with me!” His cock jerked, the torrent of seed bursting from the tip.  
  
  
  
Draco's panting grew heavier, he could feel his own cock rearing up and hardening almost painfully at the image of Harry's beautiful white climax bursting over his belly in hot splatters. It made him fumble the last strain of control he’d managed to cling to. “Ah! F-Fuck!” Draco gasped, his cock slid in and out with ease, a sensation vibrating through his bones, shaking his organs. He felt hot. “Close…close!” He panted. Then, Harry leant up to lay a kiss on his lips. Draco's eyes slammed shut, his sticky, furious climax rippling through his core and bursting deep inside his husband.  
  
  
  
Gasping for breath, Draco rolled onto the bed beside Harry, his hair sticking to the side of his cheeks with sweat. But that didn't stop the sudden smile that overcame him as he leant aside to Harry and laid either hand upon his cheeks. Leaning in and planting his lips upon Harry’s, his heart began to still.  
  
  
  
“Wow,” Harry murmured dazedly, the smile evident in his voice, as he turned a little more and spooned up against his husband’s side. “That was – that was my favourite I think,” he mused, sounding a little ditzy. He curled against that flesh, leaning his head on that shoulder so that those blond locks tickled his cheek. His fingers slid across that sweaty chest and he gave a happy sigh of exhaustion. “T-Tired,” he murmured, lashes fluttering closed. “Can we skip this stupid party – Snape and your mum can entertain Jeremy what’s-his-face can’t they?” Warm, soft fingers slid over his own, tracing the gaps between his digits thoughtfully and he opened his eyes to see Draco staring distantly up at the canopy above the bed.  
  
  
  
Draco didn’t want Harry at the gathering that would be held downstairs – Harry knew that. In fact, it had taken quite a bit of convincing from Snape, Narcissa, and even Harry to get him to agree to have the man and a host of other guests he didn’t trust in the house. It was odd, Harry thought, considering how it had all started, how he and Draco had started. He would have never thought that somehow his tormentor would become his saviour. _Or be so fiercely protective_ , he thought, not sure whether to feel content at the look in those grey eyes or not.  
  
  
  
Lots of people had cared about him since he’d first arrived at Hogwarts all those years ago, but even Dumbledore had offered him up as the Chosen One, to a life of hunting horcruxes and dark wizards, because it was for the good of wizard-kind. For the first time in his life, someone cared about him for the sake of _him,_ for the sake of his safety and…even happiness. He flushed at the thought, thinking the beginning of this all seemed so very far away now, in a different _life_ almost.   
  
  
  
_I can’t imagine living without him now,_ Harry thought, leaning in to rest his forehead on Draco’s cheek, summoning him back from his daze.  
  
  
  
“It’ll be alright,” he promised, thinking of the party they had to attend in exchange for Jeremy’s _service_. “We’ll mingle for an hour or so then I’ll feign a headache and we can come back up here.” But Draco didn’t even look at him, only turned his head so that his lips pressed into Harry’s dishevelled locks. “I won’t let him touch me, I don’t want him to. Stop worrying,” Harry breathed, stroking Draco’s fingers now.  
  
  
  
“It's a natural human emotion to worry, isn't it?” Draco asked in the lowest voice Harry had ever heard. Just above a whisper. “If anything goes wrong, I–”  
  
  
  
“It won't,” Harry interrupted and Draco's gaze flew elsewhere. “You can't say for certain. Harry you should know better than anyone that things never go as you want them to.” That morbid statement, laid out on a plate, so bold and so clear made Harry quite uneasy. Especially since there was nothing he could say to counter it, because he was right.   
  
  
  
“Even if…even if it does go to plan,” Draco continued, “I…maybe it's… I don’t know, but I can’t hate him – my father. I'll still mourn him, even though I shouldn’t, even after everything he has done.” Unconditional love was definitely the most powerful emotion there was. It could make you feel so elated and yet so awful in the same instance. It could tear you apart if you let it. “I know…I just have to think of all the bad things he has done…”  
  
  
  
“I didn’t even want to kill Voldemort, you know,” Harry interjected with a hollow laugh, “I didn’t want to take a life, not even his. It’s not completely ridiculous to not want to kill your own father. I didn’t even know my dad, not like you knew yours and I… I don’t think I could imagine what I’d do in your situation. Snape and Jeremy will handle it, it’ll be alright,” he promised again, running his hand over his stomach when their daughter gave another merciless kick, knocking the breath out of him for a moment and effectively distracting them both.  
  
  
  
Harry smiled, giving a half laugh, half grunt as he patted the flesh softly. “Merlin, you’ve given me a beater for a daughter I’m sure of it,” he smirked, rolling back a bit to invite Draco to feel. There was no hesitance between them now, Draco’s hand moved forward to replace Harry’s, his cheek resting against his stomach tentatively. “Say something,” Harry prompted, "She’s supposed to be able to hear you, least that’s what the books say.”  
  
  
  
Draco flushed at the request. “I-I wouldn't know what to say. I don't…well I…” Harry's expression changed. Was Draco Malfoy actually _embarrassed?_ Draco’s head fell back to Harry's stomach to listen, making sure not to keep eye contact with Harry as his lips parted in speech. He felt awkward enough without that emerald gaze on him. “I suppose you're going to be coming out of there soon,” Draco began sheepishly. Not the best of things to say, but he had said something at least. “I-I can't wait to meet you, and… I’ll be the best father you could dream of, I promise…”  
  
  
  
There was a moment, then their daughter thumped Draco’s cheek softly, with an arm, Harry thought. “She heard you,” he smirked, resting his head back on the pillows and breathing slowly. He was easier tired these days and maybe sex ( _making love,_ his mind corrected, his cheeks colouring) was not the best idea with what they had to face in but an hour. Closing his eyes, he felt Draco’s hand on his belly still and was forced to think beyond tonight. In many ways, the hard part had yet to come and he didn’t just mean Lucius.  
  
  
  
He swallowed hard, feeling Draco’s fingers still on their gentle path over his skin, as if sensing his sudden swell of anxiety. He still had to give _birth_! Their daughter was going to come out of him somehow and he was terrified of that, of being helpless again.  
  
  
  
“Draco?” Harry asked softly, without opening his eyes still. “What about, _Lilium_?”  
  
  
  
“What?”  
  
  
  
“Lilium,” Harry said again, cracking open his eyes to look down at his husband, green eyes glazed over with adoration. “Her name.”  
  
  
  
Draco frowned at once. “It's pretty, but…”  
  
  
  
Harry looked annoyed suddenly. “But?”  
  
  
  
“Well, I was thinking something a bit nobler, you know, to carry on the Malfoy line and… Why Lilium?” He asked curiously. He had to admit, it was a stunning name, even if he hadn't thought of it. Harry remained quiet for a few moments, before parting his lips in answer.  
  
  
  
“It sounds pretty,” Harry tried vaguely, as if not wanting to admit the real reason, but Draco crept up his body, his warm palm still resting over Harry’s rounded belly, their daughter calming within. Meeting those eyes, Harry found it harder to evade the real answer. “I knew you wanted a spectacular, poetic name – something fancy and I didn’t see anything I liked at all in those bloody name books,” he sighed, resting back on the pillow and staring up at the sashes that formed the canopy. “Neville sent me a herbology book for Christmas and I was just flicking through it and I saw it.” He chewed his lip thoughtfully, struggling to come to the point, as if drawing it out might coerce Draco to accept his suggestion.   
  
  
  
“It means the flower, innocence, purity, beauty,” he smiled honestly then, feeling it from the bottom of his heart. “But it’s also the botanical name…for Lily.”  
  
  
  
Draco's eyes widened a fraction. All was clear now. How could he say no to that request now? And Harry was right regardless, it was a pretty name. He felt a surge of childish discomfort soar through him, he had wanted to name her, after all, but it would be childish to refuse him simply because of that.  
  
  
  
Swallowing his pride and childishness, Draco tipped Harry’s chin up gently with his hand, his lips curving upwards in a warm smile. “Lilium Potter-Malfoy, is it then?” He asked. Harry seemed to beam back at him in answer. “I suppose we can settle for that,” Draco said, and Harry knew then, that that was as close as he could get to a _‘yes, I like it,’_ from Draco Malfoy.  
  
  
  
Harry’s lashes fluttered in a moment of confusion then. “Potter-Malfoy?” He asked, remembering the lash at his pride, the inner pain at having his own family name stripped away at the start of all this madness. He hadn’t really given it much thought until now, but knowing that Draco had suggested something like that, without even being nagged into it, it made a warmth spread through Harry’s chest. His smile widened and he rolled onto his side, laying his lips on his husband’s, his eyes sliding shut quickly to fight back the tell-tale stinging of overwhelmed tears.  
  
  
  
“Thank you, it…it means a lot to me. More than you can know,” he breathed against that mouth when he’d drawn back a hairsbreadth.  
  
  
  
“Harry,” Draco turned his head to face him then. “I have more of an idea than you think. It was your parents’ name and no matter how much I love my mother and…and my father, I… I stripped such a lot away from you, at the start, it's really the least I can think to do. You may have been bound to me against your will, but I…I want this to work. And I understand your need for this. This baby is a part of both of us; I couldn't just label her as mine only.”  
  
  
  
He laughed nervously then, losing track of the words spilling hopelessly from his mouth. He was brilliant with words, but never when it came to words from the heart. “You know, I really I…I…” Draco paused biting down on his lower lip. He breathed in Harry’s breath then, smiling as he realised, “What does it matter anyway? What I….you know…”  
  
  
  
Harry raised his forefinger then, tapping at the blond’s lower lip to stop him from biting it. He smiled warmly when Draco gazed at him, as if confused. “You do know that I’m happy here, right?” Harry asked, he’d said it before but sometimes Draco needed to be reassured just like he did. “You have to know, it’d probably take a hoard of miffed centaurs to drag me away from you and even then, I’d crawl my way back to you. I’d crawl, until my fingers and knees bled. This is… _you_ are my home now. I wouldn’t have it any other way, not even if you said you could snap your fingers and turn back time.”   
  
  
  
He sat up then, staring down into Draco’s eyes. “This is what I want. _However_ we got here, however it began. That’s just life – shit happens but it happens for a reason.” He licked his suddenly dry lips thoughtfully. “If every pain and misery and ounce of suffering I endured was to reach the place I’m at today, then I’d suffer it all over again to reach you.”  
  
  
  
With that, Draco bolted up from where he sat and fisted his hands in Harry’s messy locks, smashing their lips together.   
  
  
  
Kissing him quickly and passionately, Draco bruised those lips with kisses, sliding his fingers into Harry’s hair roughly. “Merlin, I…I…!” He paused and made sure Harry was watching him as he broke the kiss wetly. “I think I really love you, more than I ever could have. More than ever. I have obsessed about you, but I never knew you, I never knew you like this and yet, I still…” Draco's lips smashed back into Harry’s then, firm and full of meaning. He had never felt such rushes of happiness and sadness at the same time. To think. All he had to do was let Harry in, let him close, to be himself and that would bring him all the things he wanted. He thanked patience for once and smiled when his eyes opened, their kiss breaking again.  
  
  
  
“I…thank you,” Draco said simply. He had so many things he wanted to say, wanted to thank him for. For wanting him, for staying but he figured saying thanks was probably the wrong thing to do and Harry may get offended. After all, he wasn't doing this for just him anymore, Harry was doing it for himself and it felt amazing to know that.  
  
  
  
Harry nodded, lips kiss-bruised and cheeks flushed as he reluctantly shimmied off the bed and onto his feet. “Let’s go have a bath?” He suggested, his aching body yearning for the bubbles and his heart longing for closeness before the nightmarish this evening began. He smirked devilishly when Draco lead them towards the bathroom. “I’ll rub you down this time?” Harry suggested. “Help you to relax?”  
  
  
  
“What?” Draco asked a little taken back, his hand held in Harry's, as if his pregnant husband were leading him in. Draco just smiled and allowed himself to be lead into the bathroom. The artificial light burst into life the moment they closed the door behind them and Harry moved across to the sunken tub, turning on the taps. Water and soap and bubbles filled the tub swiftly and Draco grinned as Harry drew him close again, smoothing a tender, slow kiss to his lips.  
  
  
  
Draco pulled his shirt from his head, between kisses throwing it aside and wrapping his arms around his husband. He knew they had only just been intimate but he wanted more. Wanted to touch him, and if he had his way, he'd never stop touching him. He pressed Harry into the wall, throwing either hand at the wall behind him.  
  
  
  
“Bloody hell, I want you…all the time…I…”  
  
  
  
Harry smirked, turning his head to the sign in a display of mock defeat, electricity zinging through his body as Draco’s mouth attacked his neck hungrily. “Hnn,” Harry murmured softly, giving a little struggle in Draco’s grasp for show until an idea moved through his head and he tugged his arms out of Draco’s hands. Those grey eyes stared at him, not understanding for a moment, until Harry answered with a smirk and brought his mouth to Draco’s toned chest.  
  
  
  
“We have time for you to be spoilt a little, don’t we?” Harry murmured, grazing that skin with his nails, scraping them down the valley of his back and over his tight bottom. He caught a pink nipple between his teeth, tugging gently and relishing in the low hiss that left his husband’s mouth. Drawing back, he stared up into those grey eyes, holding that gaze as he licked a trail down that tight stomach.  
  
  
  
“Hmm, you’re so pale and pink all over,” Harry all-but purred, “Makes me want…to eat you all up.” He nipped at that light smattering of hair under his husband’s navel, tugging gently with his lips. Draco’s hand flew to those dark locks, tugging hard so that Harry’s head flew back, his lips parted and slicked with saliva. Above him, Draco groaned and Harry’s grin widened. Slowly, he leant forwards, holding eye contact and flicking his tongue out over the pink head peaking out through the foreskin.   
  
  
  
“F-Fuck!” Draco groaned, his fingers still curled tightly in that hair, but not as firmly as before, to let Harry dive forward over him with practiced ease. “Shit!” Draco had never felt so thoroughly spoilt, and that was saying something. “Please…suck me. Hmm, yeah…” He felt that hot tongue flicker over the end of his cock, licking the slit and trying to breach the inside somehow.   
  
  
  
“All of me… Please!” Draco's hands tickled the hairs around the back of Harry's neck and he felt himself falling back into the wall. Harry followed him, with either of his hands now upon the door by Draco's hips, he ducked his head to leave a trail of spittle over the underneath of that heavy cock. Pulling back, he watched the organ twitch and pulse before his eyes. Wanting him.   
  
  
  
Draco could see the bath bubbling slower now, as if realising it was nearly full. He found his last coherent thought to be gratitude towards the magic that would stop the water when it was full. The very last coherent thought before his husband sucked it from him. “Why do I want you, so much? Merlin, Harry!” His fingers tightened in those locks again. He couldn't help himself. “You…you make me…make me mad!”  
  
  
  
“Relax,” Harry murmured, swiping his tongue up and down, laving that hot, pulsing shaft with his spittle, up and down, over and over until Draco cried out, needing more. “Relax,” he said again, one hand sliding out to cup those tender balls gently, “it’s your turn to be spoilt, Mr Malfoy, just go with it.”   
  
  
  
Pressing his tongue into the leaking slit of Draco’s prick, Harry’s unoccupied hand stroked the slick length, his thumb rolling the tight line of flesh under the crown gently. “You taste eager,” Harry smirked, suckling the head tenderly and watching his husband writhe and arch up into his mouth. Draco needed this, Harry realised. It had been about ‘them’, about him (Harry) and the baby for such a long time. Draco deserved this, to have it all about him for a change.  
  
  
  
“Hmm, say… I mean, call me Mr Malfoy…I…I like that.” Of course he liked it, any excuse to feel superior. To feel like he was the dominant one even when he was the one melting. It was who he was, that sort of thing would always turn him on, no matter how much change gone through. “Lick it. Bloody hell, lick me! _Please_!”   
  
  
  
Harry beamed up at him, his eyes glazed over with desire as he looked into Draco’s face, lips still teasing the swollen tip. “Hnn, what else do you like me to call you, Mr Malfoy?” Harry breathed, bringing his finger up to his lips to wet it, before sliding it back and circling the tight pucker behind the blond’s balls. “Master?” He purred, glasses fogging up a little from the steam. “You want me to suck your cock, Master?”  
  
  
  
Draco felt his legs weaken and his stomach plunge. Why was that so hot? “Fuck yes! Call me master, sir…call me anything like that, I just…!” Draco's hands cupped the back of Harry's head then, tugging him closer. “Please. Suck. Don't wait. Can't wait. Need to cum…please…make me, make me please!” Draco felt himself falling into extreme delirium.  
  
  
  
“Yes, Sir,” Harry hummed idly, massaging the glans a little longer before dipping his head down to swallow Draco to the hilt. He groaned at the feel of the hot, pulsing flesh in his mouth, sliding his slick finger into his husband’s tight sphincter and feeling the walls clench wildly around him. Curling the digit, he stroked that sweet place within that made his head swim with pleasure and began to bob his head over the hard shaft in his mouth.  
  
  
  
He felt Draco struggling not to thrust forward, felt his meat tense in his mouth and he hummed around his delicious mouthful, the vibrations spiralling through the hot shaft. He swallowed around the head as it hit the back of his throat, hearing Draco cry out above him without reserve. With a wet slurping noise, Harry drew back to whisper heatedly against that flesh. “Want to fuck my mouth until you cum, Mr Malfoy?” He asked mischievously, taking only the head back into his mouth and sucking the pre-emission from the slit, waiting for Draco to seize enough coherency to answer.  
  
  
  
The blurry shades of white lit his soul on fire! Harry’s voice, like that of a seductive devil’s to his ears, teasing him into heights of frenzied passion he never knew existed. “Yes! Make me cum. Hmm…suck me dry, _please_!” He murmured, stumbling forward to sit on the closed toilet lid. He spread his legs wide to expose all to his husband. “W-Worship me,” he began, using the term Harry had used before now in reference to him. He reached for Harry again, drawing him in closer.   
  
  
  
“You don’t need to beg,” Harry assured him, as he always did, leaning up to steal a kiss from those swollen lips before lowering his head to the eager erection once more. “I’ll give you everything you want,” he promised, swallowing every pink, hot inch eagerly. He slid up and down, lapping at the underside with his tongue and sucking at the tip each time he neared the peak, only to take it all back in again. He felt a warm hand massage the little hairs on the back of his neck lovingly, while the other swept through his hair, as if in reward.  
  
  
  
Harry closed his eyes, concentrating hard to take it as deep into his throat as it would go. He stroked the insides of those milky thighs as he moved, feeling them tremble under his touch.  
  
  
  
“Oh-Oh shit!” Draco grunted, biting down on his lip and squirming, his eyes closed. His hands flung out to the sides, suddenly in need of something to hold onto. His cock was so sensitive after just cumming, it heightened everything to just this side of pain. One hand snatched hold of the towel rail while the other seized the sink, his fingers clasping at them as if they were anchors for his sanity. “This is…so…so good. I need more…I…don't… _Bloody hell_!” He didn't know what to say, he didn't know how to relax and just take this worship. He glanced down at Harry to see him handling his cock, in the most loving way he had ever seen anyone handle _anything_ and he flushed. Why was that alone making him harder?  
  
  
  
“You want my cum in your mouth that badly?” He gasped, arching up a little to go as deep as he could get. “Keep going like that and it…it won't be long…”  
  
  
  
Harry gave an over-zealous hum of delight that carried up that thick shaft and all the way up Draco’s body. He bobbed his head eagerly, faster and harder, urging his doting husband towards completion. His hands slid under those thighs, gripping firm, taut buttocks hard and massaging them as he pulled Draco’s hips up towards him more, his nose buried in the sparse smattering of blond hair at the base of that cock.   
  
  
  
A deep-throated groan left him, spittle sliding past his lips with every bob of his head and he felt the balls under his chin tense, ready to burst. He glanced up then to look on Draco’s face, his eyes shining with worship and he felt Draco’s entire body arch into him on their eyes meeting.  
  
  
  
It was all so intense, the look in Harry's eyes, the sudden speed of his movements, the feel of his fingertips tracing along his flesh, driving him into a sweet kind of madness! He could barely take anymore; he was literally going mad with it! “Make me cum. _Merlin;_ I’m close…so close…” Draco gripped Harry's shoulders then, pulling him back from his pulsing cock and holding it over his face, painting him with his white, scorching completion.   
  
  
  
Harry groaned catching the last spurt on his tongue and swallowing as he glanced up at Draco, cum splattered over his flushed cheeks and his glasses. He saw Draco give a breathless smirk and Harry struggled to calm his own breathing, wondering just how excited Draco was at seeing his own spendings stain his face. _A lot,_ Harry guessed, sliding up onto his knees slowly. Draco was panting for breath, his eyes shining and half-lidded, looking perfectly dishevelled and sated.  
  
  
  
“Nice?” Harry asked amusedly, waiting for his husband to come back to earth and making no rush to wipe the creamy climax from his face.  
  
  
  
“N-Nice?” Draco repeated, dazed. “Amazing m-more like!” He said, turning his face slowly to Harry. He reached for Harry’s wrist and pulled him close. Not sure why but he wanted to hold him for a moment and Harry didn't seem to complain as he felt his arms curve around him. “Thanks,” Draco panted, pressing his head into Harry's shoulders. It felt weird being lower down than his lover and having him be the one who seemed to need reassurance and comfort. But that didn't mean he hated it. No, in fact he liked it.  
  
  
  
He liked feeling Harry stand over him like this, at least until he stood up and regained his taller position once more. But for now, he just wanted to enjoy being in the arms of the person he loved. “Hmm, that bath seems so much more appetising now. Are you certain you can handle my naked body rubbing against yours?” He teased, not needing to look to know Harry was blushing.  
  
  
  
Harry gave a small chuckle, snatching the flannel off the side and wiping his face clean. He set the flannel and his glasses on the side then, turning his head to lay a kiss in his lover’s hair before getting carefully to his feet. “I’m sure I can handle you,” he murmured, confident and comfortable in Draco’s presence, even when he was naked as the day he was born. He tugged Draco towards the sunken tub (grateful that the water had magically ceased to run before overflowed) and slowly slipped into the water. The bubbles lapped at his skin and he sighed in relief as his aches ebbed away, relaxing against the side of the tub as Draco slipped in beside him.  
  
  
  
Harry’s eyes fluttered closed and he breathed in deeply, a small smile crossing his features as Draco came to sit beside him, wrapping his arms around Harry’s shoulders. “If you’d told me all those months ago that I’d be this happy I would have called you a bare-faced liar,” Harry mused, his voice low and content.   
  
  
  
Draco smiled sadly at that. He supposed Harry was right. Not knowing what to say he tried to laugh it off. “Yeah, I suppose,” he said simply. He wished he could take what Harry had said as a complement (as he had undoubtedly meant it) but he could only think of the bad reasons behind what he had just said. Draco had never thought he'd say he was happy, whether he was or not. “I'm sorry,” Draco said. And Harry looked confused. “I know you said you're happy, but I will never forgive myself for the things I did to you and you shouldn't either.”  
  
  
  
Harry thought for a moment, opening his eyes to watch the steam furl up from the warm water. Slowly, he brought his hands up to rest on the arms wrapped around him. “I don’t forgive it, per se,” Harry replied, “it’s more that… I understand it. I could sympathise with you, even back then. I realised pretty quickly that this…this wasn’t just _my prison_ ,” he explained. “We were both trapped here, both forced together, we were both lost.” He sighed then, turning his head a little so he could feel Draco’s skin against his cheek.  
  
  
  
“We were both different when this all started. I did some stupid things too; I was a bitter, selfish person. It was like I…I didn’t _want_ to be happy. I wanted to sit in the corner and sulk and cry about how bitterly unfair it all was, but you…when I saw you change I realised that I had to as well. And I have. We have. We’re happy now, aren’t we?”  
  
  
  
“I'm…I’m happy with _your_ portion of my life, of course. I like how things are now, and I really want them to stay this way, so I…I am happy,” Draco said calmly. "You’re right; I should focus on the brighter future.” Draco gazed down at his lover then, smiling softly and rubbing his shoulders. “Lean forward a bit; let me wash your back.” Harry didn't move, however, he seemed content on lying into him like this for a while. Draco chuckled happily. “Well, when you're ready then.”  
  
  
  
“Hmm,” Harry murmured incoherently, snuggling closer into his chest, the bubbles lapping between their skin soothingly.   
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
Harry sighed heavily as he descended the main staircase, the sounds of the party below sending unnerving jolts of anxiety through his belly. His fingers tightened on the banister as he made his slow way down, Draco rigid and apprehensive beside him. _We must look a right pair_ , Harry mused as they reached the bottom, watching the guests moving freely through the foyer between the main reception rooms. He felt eternally grateful to the darker dress robes that didn’t accentuate his abnormal shape too much as some guests turned their heads to look on them.  
  
  
  
“I suddenly feel like a third year facing a hundred dementors at once,” Harry said with a nervous laugh, clenching Draco’s hand tightly, in an attempt to ground Draco as well as himself.  
  
  
  
“Maybe we should find your mother and Snape, strength in numbers and all that,” he added, trying to tempt a smile from his husband’s lips as they moved through to the large hall filled with dancing and chattering guests. “Are you alright?” Harry asked.   
  
  
  
“Just feel a bit sick, like a queasy feeling in my gut,” Draco grunted. “But I suppose you're the expert in that, with what you've been feeling inside you the past few months.” Draco ushered Harry through the building crowds, agreeing with what he’d said previously. It would be better to stay beside the people he cared for tonight. Just when Draco was beginning to get annoyed at their lack of presence, he noticed Severus, lingering ominously in the doorway that lead down into the kitchens.  
  
  
  
“I haven't seen my father at all yet, or that Jeremy pillock. Is he here yet?” Draco asked as he and Harry finally reached their old professor. Snape just lowered his head courteously. “He’ll no doubt be around.”  
  
  
  
“He was not invited if that is what you mean, Draco,” Narcissa answered for Severus, her grip tightening on the potions master’s arm as she reached them. “But he may yet turn up, this is his scene after all…” Her voice trailed off thoughtfully, a sad lament to her soft voice and Harry watched Snape place his hand comfortingly over Narcissa’s.   
  
  
  
“Your focus should be on Jeremy Dewglas, he is the one that will be handling the _situation,_ after all,” Severus reassured Draco, eyeing his young charge meaningfully. “Stay close to Harry for this evening; I doubt they will try anything… _colourful_ tonight, not in such company. Image is everything to Lucius after all. But that doesn’t mean they wont try _something_.”  
  
  
  
Harry swallowed and beside him, Draco tensed, his fingers tightening around Harry’s. The chosen one surveyed the frivolity around them, the crowds that spared hardly any attention to them as they walked in, too busy enjoying themselves. And then he turned his gaze to his once professor and mother-in-law. “Why not ask Narcissa to dance?” Harry suggested suddenly, out of the blue, startling his three companions from the sorrowful reverie they had stumbled into.  
  
  
  
Snape just looked at him, eyes wide with surprise.   
  
  
  
“I can’t dance even if I weren’t swollen from belly to ankles,” Harry shrugged, “But I think Narcissa would like a dance.” He glanced up to Draco then, as did Snape, both gauging his reaction to the suggestion. They’d played around the subject enough in the privacy of their own bedroom, but Harry still wasn’t sure what Draco thought of the relationship forming between his respected ex-professor and his mother.  
  
  
  
“That would be a lovely idea,” Narcissa said, trying to lighten the black cloud as she held out her hand to Snape and he guided her into the crowds in a sudden waltz.   
  
  
  
Draco, meanwhile, glared at Harry. “Was that a dig that you wanted me to dance with you? Or were you just trying to see my reaction if she accepted?” Harry didn't answer and Draco knew what he was thinking. It was the latter. “I still have mixed feelings to tell you the truth, Harry, until I'm certain there’s something going on, and I don't know what I will say or think.”  
  
  
  
“That’s fair enough; I haven’t given you much time to think have I?” Harry replied with a knowing smile, trying to distract them both from the swelling anxiety. “And I wasn’t digging at anyone. You saw me at the bloody Yule Ball at school, I haven’t exactly improved with age or weight – I really can’t dance. And I don’t think you’ll want my swollen feet stomping on you.” He laughed, facing his husband more fully.  
  
  
  
“Well I can dance, so you wouldn't need to worry about whether you could. But I don't exactly feel up to dancing right now, I just can't relax,” Draco explained. Clearly ignoring him, Harry took his hand then, leading him forward onto the dance floor. “Harry?!”  
  
  
  
“Only you could be this highly strung after two orgasms only an hour ago,” Harry mused, eyes shining with mischievousness as he knotted their fingers together, pulling that free hand round his waist. “If you stand there like a lemon you’ll get even more wound up,” he explained shifting his feet a little this way and that, tugging Draco with him. At that moment, Snape glided by, elegantly drawing Narcissa with him, in their own world as the music moved them. Harry watched them with a small smile, a glimpse of bliss in all this foreboding…  
  
  
  
“Come on you grumpy old man,” Harry said then, tugging Draco tight against him, “Show your husband a good time and I’ll let you lead.”   
  
  
  
“You will _let me_ lead?!” Draco chimed in, infuriated. “I'm not grumpy and I'm certainly not old!” Draco spat in disgust. But with that smile of Harry's, he couldn't stay angry very long. His husband’s fingers were warm and inviting, they drew him in close and before he knew it, he was in the midst of the crowds   
  
  
  
Many eyes were upon them, not all of them. But the majority. Draco took hold of Harry's hands then, looking only into his eyes with an intense stare that made Harry shudder against him. “Come on then, pregnant lady; show me that you can keep up.”  
  
  
  
“You absolute arse,” Harry mumbled playfully, not daring to let his gaze stray from Draco’s eyes for fear of how many he might see staring at them. If anyone knew how he had managed to survive the trials of his adolescent life, as clumsy as he was, he’d like to know how. He stumbled a few times, standing on Draco’s toes every few steps. Harry flushed darkly, the music wasn’t very fast after all, but then Draco slowed his steps and he followed more smoothly, glaring up into those fiery eyes.  
  
  
  
“Better not see you sniggering,” Harry warned teasingly as his fingers tightened in Draco’s grasp, the other arm pulling him in intimately close. _But he’s not worrying about anything,_ he thought, his husband raising his arm to twirl him a little before pulling him back in. He smiled despite himself, a little breathless already but beaming like an idiot.   
  
  
  
“Hmm, for a pregnant lady you're not as bad as you made out. At least you can remain upright,” Draco mused; spinning Harry full circle on the spot and pulling him close again. His hand kept hold of Harry's and he whirled him around the dance floor, for the following fifteen minutes of so, he was able to just relax and forget all that had been crumbling around him. He was lost in the moment, lost in Harry. That was, until he caught a glimpse of Jeremy Dewglas. He stopped in his place.   
  
  
  
“Harry, look,” Draco gestured to their guest. Harry spun his head back to see Jeremy standing on the staircase and looking over the crowds. Searching the faces of the guests, Jeremy seemed to find them, for within the next few moments, he had made his way to their side, smiling politely to them both.  
  
  
  
“Pleasure to see you both again,” the man beamed, that similarity to Colin Creevey’s personality that Harry recalled masked by an odd, purposeful pensiveness. The man gave a small bow to Malfoy, before fixing his intense gaze on Harry. “And Harry, look at you – you’re so big!” He said delightedly, eyes roving his swollen belly. “You must be ready to pop soon, hmm?”  
  
  
  
Harry looked to Draco awkwardly, “Err, not too soon, a little while yet,” he murmured, recalling with those words that he was meant to be resting in bed. Everything he had done thus far could hardly be considered resting, however happy he felt, or _had_ felt.   
  
  
  
A sudden jolt of guilt plummeted in his gut and he felt his stomach knot with those small, familiar cramps. He winced, a little short of breath but again, that was nothing new, but it still didn’t stop Draco from fixing him with a concerned frown. “I’m alright,” Harry promised before his husband could ask anything, “Bit light-headed is all.”  
  
  
  
“I suppose it might be imprudent then to ask for the next dance?” Jeremy mused, his lips tipped up in a smile. Harry jumped in before Draco could retaliate.  
  
  
  
“Err, yeah, sorry, too much excitement, I just need some water I think,” Harry refused gently. “Draco, maybe we could–” But his words were cut short by Draco’s sharp, biting tone.  
  
  
  
“And even if he _wanted_ to dance with _you_ , I wouldn't allow it!” Draco spat, his eyes accusingly icy and narrow.  
  
  
  
Jeremy raised both his hands in a show of surrender and took a few steps back. “Look, I didn't mean to cause offence, Mr Malfoy. I simply thought–”  
  
  
  
“Well you thought wrong!” Draco hissed and Harry came back to his side with a worried lip. Jeremy grunted at Harry’s peacemaking. “Harry, may I ask you something?” Jeremy asked, turning his face to disregard Draco’s presence. “Did you think anything of it, just now, when I asked you for a dance? It's just…well, I'm not sure if you have noticed how possessive your husband is and–”  
  
  
  
Draco's eyes were a deadly glare now, and the man stopped mid-speech. “Fuck it… Why not?” Draco snarled, pushing Harry towards Jeremy. “Go on, Harry, dance with him.”  
  
  
  
Harry's eyes grew wide and he snatched his hand away when Jeremy reached for it, struggling to find a polite reason for the action. He glanced back to Draco, who was standing there, arms folded across his chest and eyes furious. Harry swallowed, blinking furiously. “I – I'm afraid that I can't,” he refused carefully, “I'm really not feeling up to it–”  
  
  
  
“Come now,” Jeremy persisted, that oddly prevailing smile on his face as he caught Harry's hand and tugged him against him, forcing him to move slightly with the music. “You wanted something from me, Harry; surely it's only fair you indulge me in such small favours?” Harry stiffened when Jeremy's other hand found what remained of his waist and guided his clumsy feet through the steps. Harry kept his eyes anywhere but those searching ones, his stomach clenching warningly.  
  
  
  
“I want Lucius Malfoy dealt with – by you. I want him out of commission where he cannot hurt a fly, ever again.” This was one good thing that could come from it at least. Draco wouldn't have to get upset or deal with such things. “And I want it done discreetly,” he added.  
  
  
  
Jeremy's smile grew wide. “Indeed, Professor Snape has already donated to my funds handsomely for it. It will be done, Harry. I will need a few days but after that it will be done.”  
  
  
  
Harry nodded unsurely, humouring him with dancing for another minute before pulling away and heading back towards Draco. But Jeremy followed. Harry took up a seat between Draco and the buffet table, his hand on his stomach. He wished these cramps would piss off, he swore they were getting worse!  
  
  
  
“The dance with you was better,” Harry whispered to his husband before Jeremy reached them, studying them both with that eerie smile.  
  
  
  
“So, tell me more about you two, humour my interest,” Jeremy asked, oddly watching Harry take a sip of water from the glass Draco had offered. And Harry wondered how long it would take Jeremy to push Draco too far…  
  
  
  
“What exactly do you want to know?” Draco hissed, refilling a fresh glass with something a little stronger than butterbeer. “I'm pretty sure you know everything by now.”  
  
  
  
Jeremy lowered his head carefully and looked at Harry, smiling innocently. “Well, I hope my first question isn't to personal but…reading up on male pregnancies, like I have done in the past when trying to conceive, they well…they say it's healthy to maintain sexual activities as normal. I was just wondering if you had stuck to this.”  
  
  
  
The glass in front of Draco seemed to pay the price for their _guest’s_ words, it exploded suddenly. Just who was this man, to ask questions like that?! As Harry went to answer civilly, Draco cut across him with a growl of irritation. “That is inappropriate, however,” Draco seized this chance, once and for all. “We have regular hardcore sex almost every chance we have. Of course, when he’s too tired we fuck nice and slowly…” Harry had never heard Draco speak so crudely in public (even if the other guests didn’t seem to hear them). He had always upheld a sense of pride and saved his dirty mouth for the bedroom.  
  
  
  
“Oh, he’s demanding then,” Jeremy said to Harry, but his words were not a question. An odd light shot through his eyes, almost mischievous. “But who could blame him?”  
  
  
  
“What is it that you want from me, from Draco?” Harry asked then, the line of glasses on the table shuddering with Draco’s rage. He had a feeling the shattered glass would be the least of their problems if they didn’t get to the bottom of this. “It’s true our presence might help your popularity among the masses, but that cant be all you are after for such a massive favour.”  
  
  
  
Yes, he’d dealt with these kinds of people before. He didn’t dislike Jeremy, but he knew that smile when he saw it – the smile that meant he was after something.  
  
  
  
Jeremy beamed, looking between the two and then to the bump just under Harry’s hand. Seeing this, Draco stepped forward a little, putting himself part way between him and Harry.  
  
  
  
“Just to get to know you better, to get a glimpse of everything you have, everything I never had,” Jeremy answered, meaning Lilium, Harry supposed, remembering Jeremy saying he hadn’t been able to carry. He swore he’d seen that admiring light in those eyes somewhere else before though and it made him feel a little uneasy that this man seemed to…want him when he already belonged to – belonged _with_ Draco…  
  
  
  
“As long as that’s all it is,” Draco warned. “Harry is mine.”  
  
  
  
Jeremy shook his head apologetically. “Don't… I mean I…I know…” He tried, but Draco was already furious, and under that calm exterior, Draco could see the truth in their guest. Draco got up then, walking very close to Jeremy, so close that their faces were almost touching. Draco’s eyes sharpened with hatred as he whispered dangerously, “You're the sort of person I hate and I wouldn't be tolerating this fake sweetness, if it wasn't for the circumstances. I almost kicked you out the previous time you visited, if you remember?”  
  
  
  
Harry’s lips parted as he stepped forward, moving to place himself between them, but then the room twisted nauseatingly and he flopped back into the chair he’d previously been perched in. Covering his face with his hands, he waited for the world to stop spinning and he felt Draco at his side in an instant, Jeremy watching the exchange closely but Harry managed to tear his hands from his face, staring at a blurry image of Draco.  
  
  
  
“F-Fine, I’m fine, I just – I’m – it’s been a bit much, I need to sit for a bit. Can you get me some more water?” He asked, voice a little strained even as Draco’s hand fell soothingly onto his stomach. Lilium wasn’t moving much tonight…  
  
  
  
  
  
Across the room, Narcissa smiled breathlessly, as she hadn’t done in years, not since she had been a young girl and Lucius had been frantically pulling out all the romantic notions he could in courting her, vying for her hand with insincere affections. This felt very different. Very real. It felt stupid, to be reduced to a blushing schoolgirl, tossing aside all decorum and modesty and in front of others too – but it was liberating all the same. And Severus, he was smiling, honestly smiling as he danced her through the hall, dark eyes focused on her as if she were the most beautiful thing in the room.   
  
  
  
She caught sight of where Draco was fussing over Harry and frowned, still moving to the music through the crowds. “Is Harry alright, do you think?” She asked but Severus just nodded, never ceasing. And then, a cool voice cut through the bliss.  
  
  
  
“What an earth is going on here?” The older, more dominating blond sneered, tapping his cane impatiently against the side of his leg. Narcissa’s hands fell from Severus's at once, but she did not go to her husband’s side like a lapdog, not like she would have before. Lucius looked down his nose at her and his eyes flickered. He barely acknowledged her, just looked her over with an expression of extreme distaste, before making his way over to where Draco was fussing over his husband. Narcissa looked at Snape at once and they flew after him.  
  
  
  
“Draco?”  
  
  
  
Draco turned at that voice. It had been a while since he had seen his father but he knew instantly that voice, the one that haunted his past. He winced, turning on the spot to see the older taller man peering over him. And Harry.  
  
  
  
“How are things, my son?”  
  
  
  
“Enough!” Severus interjected, seizing Lucius’s arm roughly and glaring darkly at him, eye to eye. “You’ve done enough to ruin their lives and any ounce of happiness they’ve managed to scrape together,” he snarled in a deadly whisper, the rest of the room not even having noticed the exchange. “I will not allow you to ruin your son or Harry or your wife any more. I’d rather choke the life from you myself right now and be off to Azkaban for freeing them from you!”  
  
  
  
“No!” Narcissa gasped, throwing her arms around Severus’s arm that shook from where he was holding Lucius’s arm so tightly. “Not this way! I cannot lose…” But she stopped there, her eyes wide as she realised she had been about to betray a deep secret.  
  
  
  
Lucius's eyes narrowed. “So now the entire family desires my removal? And you think you can achieve this? From my own manor. Don't be ridiculous.” He turned to his wife then, seizing her arm and pulling her aside. “What exactly do you mean, _cannot lose_? And _not this way_ , what are you planning? To kill me?” He laughed almost hysterically and faced his son, still laughing. “Don't make me laugh; this is _my_ house and my family. I'll run it and rule it however I see fit!”  
  
  
  
Narcissa trembled in fear. There was no sense in denying it, she was afraid of him and had been for a while. She flinched as he snarled at her but she glanced to the side, where Draco was standing and Harry just behind him, still seated, looking quite pale and dizzy all of a sudden, as if he weren’t quite aware of what was happening…  
  
  
  
“You raped our son,” she whispered, her tongue swift and biting like a vipers and she yanked her arm from his grasp, even if the fear remained, she would not allow him to touch Draco or Harry or the baby. She wouldn’t fail them again. “You betrayed him and myself. You are no longer a part of this family. Draco is the head of this family; he holds the key to _our_ wealth and _our_ house. Nothing in this place is yours. You revoked those rights when you revoked the right to your son and granddaughter – yes, she is a girl by the way.”  
  
  
  
WHACK!  
  
  
  
A sharp, full-armed swing of that cane, (so fast neither Draco nor Severus saw it coming) smacked Narcissa across her face, sending her sprawling across the floor. Severus dropped to her side, pulling her into his arms whilst Draco surged forward – furious.   
  
  
  
All the while, invisible to the others for a moment, Harry kept his eyes behind his suddenly burning hot palms, his breath coming out in harsh, laboured pants. His stomach felt tight and it twisted and knotted menacingly. He tried to open his mouth for speech but could not find the words. “Are you alright?” Jeremy asked in his ear carefully and Harry flinched but shook his head. He wasn’t alright. He could hear their voices, Draco was shouting, screaming, but it all felt very distant and detached…  
  
  
  
“What the _hell_? You self-righteous prick!” Draco yelled, standing up tall in his father’s shadow, grasping his shirt threateningly.   
  
  
  
“Going to strike at me, boy?” Lucius said with a sneer, sure of himself and his control over his only son.  
  
  
  
Draco's fist instantly collided with his father's face in that moment, sending him tumbling back a few spaces. _Pity it wasn’t enough to knock him spark out,_ Draco thought spitefully. “Get out!” Draco warned. But Lucius had already recovered and was aiming for Draco. He pulled his wand from his pocket and pressed it into Draco's neck.  
  
  
  
Draco stilled suddenly and Narcissa brushed Snape off quickly, assuring him she was fine and leaping to her feet. Severus drew his wand then, aiming it at Lucius's throat. “He said _get out!_ ” Snape hissed. Lucius looked affronted, torn between what he was most furious about. That his wife had found out about his sick, twisted pleasures from his death eater days, or that Snape seemed to be romancing her, or that his son had just struck him. He choked on it all. It was incomprehensible to him.  
  
  
  
The shocked guests were watching now, standing around, suddenly uncomfortable and the music had stopped. Lucius’s wand fell at last as he considered the guests. “This house is mine, which means I have the rights to it. I will claim it if you truly intend to cut me out of your lives–”  
  
  
  
“Sorry to interrupt,” Jeremy tried, but Draco shot him a glare and told him to back off. Jeremy tried again, glancing nervously to Harry. “But…”  
  
  
  
“You are disinherited!” Narcissa screamed, hysterical, her face flushed with fury, cutting across Jeremy. “Everyone here is watching you try to tear apart the family you wanted to rise up from the dirt you had dragged us down to! Everyone here knows how low you would go! Every door will be slammed in your face! You are nothing anymore! You’ve lost any ounce of respect you managed to scrape back by dirty means! You’re nothing! You own nothing! It’s Draco’s! Every penny! Every blade of bloody grass!”  
  
  
  
“Be still,” Snape whispered carefully, holding her back from breaking point. “Do not embarrass yourself the way he would like…”  
  
  
  
“Draco’s yes,” Lucius hissed venomously, “But what after that? You are mistaken if you think I will see a penny go to that dirty-blooded abomination in Potter’s belly! I’d die first!”  
  
  
  
“That can be arranged–”  
  
  
  
“ENOUGH!” The room went deadly silent at Harry’s raised voice and his companions turned at last to see Harry struggling to his feet, his limbs shaking and his skin unnaturally white. “E-Enough,” he repeated brokenly and then his hand flew to his stomach. “Bugger,” he gasped, almost a wheeze and then his legs gave out from under him.   
  
  
  
_Not now!_ He thought desperately, the whole room watching him. “Not now, not now, not now…!”  
  
  
  
 _  
  
~To Be Continued..._


	25. Lilium

[Twenty-Five]  
  
 **Lilium**  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Alarmed, Draco shoved his father aside and rushed to Harry. Worried. How could he have been ignoring Harry when he was sitting there in this much pain?! “Are you alright, Harry? What’s…?” By the wince that twisted Harry's face, Draco was sure that this was more than a bout of stomach cramps. “But she isn't due yet!” Draco gasped, helping Harry through the crowds to a softer seat on the other side of the room. “Get him out!” Draco shouted at once. Snape bowed his head, and he and Narcissa turned on Lucius.  
  
  
  
“Leave!” She screamed, holding out her wand now. Something she had never done against Lucius in her life.  
  
  
  
“I am not leaving! Do not be absurd!” Lucius chuckled.   
  
  
  
“This is no laughing matter! Get out! Get out of this house!” She bellowed this time.   
  
  
  
Snape ushered her aside. “Narcissa, let me deal with this, go to your son and Harry. They need you.”  
  
  
  
Now out of the way, and with Narcissa by their side, both Harry _and_ Draco seemed to be sweating profusely. “You don't think he’s going into labour do you? Not now?” Draco asked her, as if pleading with her to make it stop. Narcissa looked over her son in law critically, not certain. Harry was a man after all, anything could be happening.  
  
  
  
“I’m not certain,” she replied softly. “All I know is that we need to get him to the healers at once!”  
  
  
  
“S’ my fault,” Harry ground out through clenched teeth, both hands on his twisting stomach which felt like it was trying to turn inside out. “Too much stress… She’s going to be born too early and it’s all my fault…”  
  
  
  
“Nonsense dear,” Narcissa reassured him gently, “She’s coming because it’s time.” Then, turning to Draco she murmured, “Get him upstairs in your room. Put him to bed; keep him warm until the healer gets here.”  
  
  
  
“I’ll fetch her for you,” Jeremy piped up.  
  
  
  
“Healer…O’Dempsy,” Harry ground out, taking Draco’s arm and stumbling to his feet. Everything hurt. Worse than the cruciatus – tenfold. Tears stung the back of his eyes and he was no stranger to pain. “Hurry,” he insisted through a wince to Jeremy as Draco and him started moving towards the stairs. If they waited too long, if she got too distressed…  
  
  
  
 _It’s not as if she has any other way of coming out either if the healer doesn’t get here,_ he thought, panic rising up in his throat like bile. He shuddered as his foot touched the first step. “I don’t know if I can…” His fingers were clenched around Draco’s arm, knuckles white and tense and he closed his eyes for a moment, waiting for the world to stop spinning. “If it’s…it’s too late – if you have to choose…” He began, his voice broken with little gasps of pain, “Choose her, _please_ , don’t make me wake up to find her not there. Promise me?”  
  
  
  
“What? Y-You can't seriously be asking this of me? I… I can't answer that! I… Don't make me promise that. If the situation arises I…I don't think I could raise her without you!” Draco said in sudden outburst. Harry forced a smile. Harry knew he could. He was prepared to be the father without Harry there in the beginning. “I won't answer you, because you _will_ pull through this! I'll fucking _make you_ if I have to!” Draco screamed, with every last shred of air in his lungs. “I won't let you _die_ on me!”  
  
  
  
Narcissa felt a sudden warm glow burning in her chest at what she’d overheard. Her son was just as loving and vulnerable and _human_ as anyone else. Despite all else, it was nice to see the Draco she knew was in there and not afraid to show his emotions at last. Even if the situation was a nightmare one.  
  
  
  
“Come,” Narcissa said softly, at her son’s side now, Severus and the house elves dismissing the guests, particularly their most unwanted one. She took Harry’s other arm and helped Draco guide him up the magnificent staircase and into their chambers. “Let’s get you comfortable.” She took the pressure off her precious son by giving him tasks, keeping his mind and his hands busy as she brought in a large warm bowl of water and some towels, setting them to the side under a stasis spell to preserve the heat.  
  
  
  
“Help me get into my pyjamas?” Harry asked, feeling quite mawkish all of a sudden, the panic had been subdued by Narcissa’s experience but he was still worried, in fact, he felt quite sick…  
  
  
  
He tugged off his robe and tossed it to the floor, struggling out of his trousers with a wince when Draco returned to his side with his pyjamas. A sharp bolt of pain ripped through his body then and Harry hissed in agony, doubling over on the bed for a moment, his fingers biting into the duvet. It felt like his insides were on fire, melting and tensing at the same time. He grinded his teeth together furiously, only partially soothed by Draco’s warm hands on his feverish skin, helping him out of his clothes. “‘M sorry, Draco, you’re not pissed off are you?” He asked, keeping his gaze fixed on those deft fingers. He didn’t want there to be any bad feelings – didn’t want Draco to be angry if this might be… _it._  
  
  
  
“What are you talking about? Just lay down, I'm not angry you idiot. I'm more concerned about you.” He gave Harry a worried look, cringing at every frequent hiss of pain. “Lay your head back on the pillow. I'll get you some water and a wet flannel,” he said, standing.  
  
  
  
Narcissa rushed to her feet and bowed her head. “Let me, Draco, stay by his side,” she advised, having gone through this before and knowing how much Harry would have wanted Draco not to be no further then a few inches away.  
  
  
  
“Alright,” Draco nodded and she disappeared through the door. Draco exhaled shakily, stroking the swell of Harry's stomach. “Soon,” he promised.  
  
  
  
Not soon enough, Harry thought, clenching his jaw against the pain, which seemed to be swelling, growing with every new wave of agony. But he gave Draco a small nod. Was O’Dempsy _ever_ going to get here? “T-This is… I’d rather have the Hungarian horntail chasing me whilst I was under the cruciatus,” Harry ground out, trying to keep the room from falling silent, not wanting to think about all the things that could be going wrong inside of him – and he, helpless to stop it. Helplessness, it was every bit as unbearable as he had expected. The pain, however, was more.  
  
  
  
“F-Feels like my insides are all trying to squeeze down but there’s nowhere for it to go,” he panted, sweat beading across his forehead and down his neck by the time Narcissa returned to the room with a small bowl of water in one hand and a large cup in the other.  
  
  
  
“Ice,” Narcissa explained, handing Harry the cup. “I’m afraid you shouldn’t eat or drink much but if you eat the ice it may help.” Harry nodded, tossing a few icicle chips into his mouth, anything to help alleviate the acidic taste of bile gathering in his dry throat. The constant squeezing pressure of his innards was starting to make him a bit queasy…  
  
  
  
Narcissa looked upon him thoughtfully for a moment, as if recalling the hard time she had most likely had with Draco. Of course, Harry doubted Lucius Malfoy was to be found pampering his partner during such a time, not like Draco was now.  
  
  
  
“You’re worth ten of him, you know,” Harry babbled, sounding quite delirious with pain. Narcissa smiled at his beside, taking up the flannel and wringing out the cool water, dabbing at his inflamed face and neck.   
  
  
  
“Sit behind him and rub his back a little,” Narcissa suggested, as if Harry were a hallucinating child with a fever. She patted his neck with the flannel again and the cool water was like a relief but Harry’s lips kept moving.   
  
  
  
“You’re better than Lucius. You’re a better husband, a better man and you’ll be a better father as well, I know you will.”   
  
  
  
“Just shut up and relax,” Draco said, half embarrassed at such statements and half concerned that Harry's attempts at talking too much were making him more breathless. As Draco's hands pressed to Harry's shoulders to rub them, a small pop of the door sounded and not one, but three healers were rushing in. They quickly scattered around the bed. One turned to examine the bed-ridden chosen one, another fumbling inside a large case and the last, Healer O’Dempsy addressed both Draco and Narcissa about the situation.  
  
  
  
“Do you know what has happened?” She asked.  
  
  
  
“He seems to have gone into…well the equivalent of labour. We understand it’s a very time-sensitive process? Given Harry’s… _condition_?” Narcissa explained calmly, sparing Draco from the necessity.   
  
  
  
“Due to the poison he was administered yes and the stress,” the Healer said with a nod, “we’ll try to hurry things along but your son-in-law’s decision to leave it this long may have caused… _complications_ …”  
  
  
  
Harry’s head lolled on his shoulders weakly and he propped it up against Draco’s chest, feeling his supportive, protective warmth behind him and backing into him a little, as he watched an unfamiliar healer tug the duvet back down to his thighs. He frowned up at her quizzically, not fully understanding. He’d thought it would just be the regular healer they saw every few weeks.  
  
  
  
“How are we doing there, Mr Malfoy?” The stranger asked smiling warmly at him. He only felt unnerved.   
  
  
  
“W-What’s – what’s going on? Who are you?” He tried to look back to Draco as if he might explain it, hysteria bubbling up inside him. He just wanted this over now. “I don’t know who you are, how can I let you–?”  
  
  
  
“It’s quite alright, Harry,” O’Dempsy interjected smoothly, taking her colleague’s place at his side. “Just open your pyjama shirt and pull your bottoms down a little for me? You may leave the duvet up under your stomach. I just need to have a look at what your daughter is doing.”  
  
  
  
Harry swallowed, sweat beading across his skin and reluctantly pushed his pyjama shirt off his shoulders, resting back against Draco with a wince. His skin felt too tight, like it was trying to split open from the inside. He grit his teeth, a shallow hiss spearing through as his fingers bit into the sheets, only to have Draco’s warm digits entangle soothingly with his own. “Fu-Fucking hurts!” He groaned, turning his forehead into the hollow of Draco’s throat and closing his eyes and breathing deeply in a struggle to alleviate the pain.  
  
  
  
Narcissa gave her son a supportive smile, watching O’Dempsy cast the spell over Harry’s stomach so that it glowed with a warm golden light. Her wand pressed firmly but gently in Harry’s stomach and a frown creased her brows before she glanced up at both Harry and Draco. “We don’t have enough time to put you to sleep. I’m afraid we’ll have to simply numb your stomach, Mr Malfoy; a complete sleeping potion will not act quickly enough.”  
  
  
  
Harry’s eyes were wide and prickled with tears of blistering pain. He kept his jaw clenched, trying to care and to make sense of what she was saying. “I – what are you saying? Is she alright? Is it–?”  
  
  
  
“We need to act now,” O’Dempsy cut across him, “My colleagues are performing the necessary sanitation charms and then we’ll have to begin.”  
  
  
  
Another bolt of pain shot through him and Harry cried out that time through his clenched teeth, squeezing Draco’s fingers hard. “B-Bloody…sodding _hell_!” He ground out, his back arching a little from the searing, full-bodied spasm of agony. He swore if he looked down any time now he’d see his stomach opening up like a deformed bloody flower. “G-Get her out! Get her out!”  
  
  
  
Draco held Harry's hand in his own, comforting him and dabbing his feverish forehead and neck every now and then with the wet flannel, wiping away the beads of sweat there. “When you say you have to act now, do you mean…the birth?” Draco asked dumbly, needing to be sure.  
  
  
  
“Yes, she's coming,” replied the second healer, giving Harry the numbing potion, which he swallowed with one gulp.  
  
  
  
“I won't let go of your hand, Harry,” Draco assured him, but Harry was in too much pain to even smile in answer.  
  
  
  
Narcissa rose to her feet then, saying she would be right back and that she had to get some water, effectively hiding her real intentions from her preoccupied son. Her real intentions were to see how Severus was doing and what the situation with Lucius was. He was supposed to die and now. Could it really wait?  
  
  
  
Hurrying down the stairs, however, she found the large landing and foyer below completely empty. She flew through the ballroom and drawing room, but it seemed their guests had vanished. Not a soul was left in sight, even Severus seemed to be missing. “What on earth is going on here?” She worried.  
  
  
  
  
  
Back in the bedroom Harry was squeezing Draco's hand hard and the sheets practically tore in his grasp. The pain was unbearable, like nothing he had ever felt. And he could not stifle the screams. “Harry, it's alright,” Draco tried. But Harry just clenched his teeth so hard it looked as if his jaw would crack. Draco winced, turning on the healers. “Isn't there _anything_ you can do to lessen the pain?!”  
  
  
  
O’Dempsy shook her head, casting the final anti-septic charm around Harry’s midsection before bringing her wand down on his rounded belly. Harry tensed, it felt numb but he _could still_ feel it! He pressed his head back hard into Draco’s shoulder. “Don’t be brave for Draco’s sake, Harry,” the other healer said from the side, both her and her colleague ready to stem the bleeding once the cutting started. “It’ll feel easier if you just try to let everything go. Cry if you need to–”  
  
  
  
“Does it look like I’m being fucking brave?!” Harry snarled, tears painting streaks down his flushed cheeks. “I’m sobbing like a nursery school kid! Just get her out of me!”   
  
  
  
O’Dempsy gave a small nod before she gave a murmuring spell and her wand point was suddenly as biting as a serrated blade. Blood bubbled over the wound despite the other healers’ magic in assistant and Harry choked on his own screams. He was going to be sick.  
  
  
  
“It hurts!!!” He screamed, words gurgled and almost incoherent as the breath was stolen from him. “I can – I can feel it! Stop it!” He couldn’t even move and he didn’t know if that was the other healers or just the supreme agony but everything felt numb with it except for his stomach. “H-Hurts! I c-can feel it!” He wheezed, daring to glance down and instantly wishing he hadn’t. His innards turned at the sight.  
  
  
  
That glowing light was still there, showing O’Dempsy exactly where to safely cut and he saw her slice through his skin (just about over his round stomach) but he saw and felt distinctly when she parted the lips of skin and his whole body jerked in revulsion. He was doing to be sick…  
  
  
  
Abruptly, Draco’s hand was on his cheek, turning his face into his neck to prevent him from looking any further. “C-Can _feel_ it,” he insisted, choking on his own spittle as he tried to make Draco hear him. They were wizards, surely they could do _something_!  
  
  
  
Draco felt his own gut pull; he couldn't look below while they were operating on him either. So instead, he laid all his focus on his husband. His hand caressed that tear-streaked cheek softly. “Look at me Harry, just look at me. I'm here to help you; I'm here for you, alright?” This must have been the first time the healer had witnessed true compassion between the two of them. It was momentarily distracting. Harry nodded against Draco's hand and bit on his lip before screaming out in delirious pain.  
  
  
  
O’Dempsy froze then.  
  
  
  
“What is happening?” Draco asked. O’Dempsy’s face was almost white with fear. This wasn't even the half of it. He knew this was going to get much, much worse. He could feel that something was very wrong. “Tell me!” Draco demanded.  
  
  
  
“The pseudo-uterus has ruptured, that was what your husband felt tonight, the ‘magic’ sustaining it weakened too much. Your – _Harry_ has some serious internal bleeding here, if I don’t deal with it now–”  
  
  
  
“H’r firs’!” Harry managed out, his words light and dazed now as if he were slipping. His eyes remained closed, tucked into Draco’s neck so that he felt his locks tickling his face gently. “G-Get her...out. Help...her...first,” he insisted, swallowing hard around the nauseating acid building in his throat.  
  
  
  
O’Dempsy gave him a worried look, before glancing up at Draco and then back to the bloodied mess before her. Again, she gave a resolute nod. “Try to hold stasis spells over the uterus and the ruptures until I can get her clear. Once the child is out I want you to remove the uterus.” Her co-workers nodded but Harry barely heard them. He felt it all drifting slowly. His breath was coming out in frantic, fast pants now. He felt hands inside him, probably cutting his daughter free, but the very feeling of someone moving around his innards made what remained of the world drift.  
  
  
  
“D-Draco?” Harry murmured faintly and he felt Draco’s soft thumb swipe a tear off his cheek and tilt his face up so that he could hear his lost voice better. “I don’t…don’t regret anything,” Harry managed, forcing his eyes open, but his vision was blurred and he could make out only vague shapes. “I’m sorry I didn’t…didn’t tell you before now. I want…wanted it to…to…” His face screwed up in pain and he struggled with all his might not to scream until he’d said it.  
  
  
  
“Stop the bleeding on that side!” O’Dempsy barked, and Harry felt her slicing into a tender, fleshier part of his inside. The darkness that waited was very tempting. It hurt. So badly.  
  
  
  
“I – I love you,” he choked out, his vision spinning with tears as he tried to bring Draco’s face into focus.  
  
  
  
Draco stared at him, stunned. Of all the times to make such a declaration…  
  
  
  
“That’s so like you, Harry Potter,” Draco said huskily, beaming. “I love you too… But why now? You’re such a prat.” Harry smiled through a wince then. Draco stroked his sweaty hair as he continued, “Don't tell me now, not yet, because you're not dying, you hear me? And if you're telling me because you think you are then I don't want to hear it, alright?!”  
  
  
  
He had always wanted Harry to speak those words to him, dreamt of it, but if it came at the expense of his life, of never seeing him or holding him again, he realised he'd rather never hear those words. Not if it meant Harry could stay alive even one more day. That was all that mattered now. Harry, and what he felt, what he wanted.   
  
  
  
He'd rather have a living, happy Harry than a Harry who hated him like before for forcing him to be with him. A Harry who he was selfish with. That wasn't love. It never was. He understood what love, true, selfless love meant now, more than ever. “Hang in there, Harry,” Draco encouraged raggedly. “You're doing so well; Lilium is going to be so proud of you. Just keep going, alright?”  
  
  
  
Harry gave him a distant smile but it was swiftly stolen from his face by a sharp jerk inside him. His whole body shook, struggled against the magical restraints and he gave a breathless scream, crying freely now. Fuck his pride, fuck how he looked or that he was practically naked and crying – it hurt, more than _anything_ he had ever suffered before and he’d beg for it to stop if he thought it’d make a difference.  
  
  
  
Suddenly everything went cold, his fingers, his toes, his legs, everything. His lips moved soundlessly a few moments and when he finally found his voice, it was a strangled whisper. “F-Feel…feel cold,” Harry breathed, his hand clasping at Draco’s desperately, as if to anchor himself there. Draco petted his hair gently. Panic swelled again and there was another tug at his skin this time, but he felt Draco’s head shift as if to look to where O’Dempsy was working over him.   
  
  
  
“Your daughter,” O’Dempsy said softly, and Harry heard a gargled, quiet cry. He tried to turn his head, tried to look up, but then the other healers must have started to remove the magically created uterus for he felt another unbearable pressure in his belly. He heard scuffling outside, a woman screaming and everything in the room stilled. He swore he heard Draco whisper something in his ear and tried in vain to understand it.  
  
  
  
Was Lilium alright? Was she going to be ok? What was going on outside?  
  
  
  
But then, the bedroom door flew open and Draco jerked behind him, stumbling to his feet. Harry’s vision swam then with the agony, his consciousness fading. The last thing he saw was a familiar, dark silhouette, topped by blond locks. _Lucius_?! He thought. But the darkness seized him before the panic could.  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
 _At first there was a disorientating, endless blackness, like an abyss in which he was falling, falling, falling…  
  
  
  
With a sudden jolt, he found himself in familiar ground. The abyss of nothingness had merged into memorable, shining black tiles, the white grouting so dazzling that it pierced his eyes. Harry winced, his hand falling to his belly, which was bandaged fully, but flat and tender to touch. Grinding his teeth against the pain, he reached down to part the bandages, but no sooner than he’d touched it, that a horrid, shrill ringing filled the air.  
  
  
  
“Hello?” Harry called out, his throat hoarse. The department of mysteries? But how did he get here and where was everybody? The ringing continued, growing louder and more urgent with every moment. “Hello?” Harry called again. His feet moved forwards with out his permission, as if the ringing were summoning him. “Is anybody there?” Ring. Ring. Ring. His insides tensed warningly. What was going on? What was happening?  
  
  
  
“Draco?” Harry called, panic in his voice, “Draco, are you there?” He was almost pleading with the cold, merciless tiles, his voice ricocheting off the walls and floor, dictating exactly how alone he truly was.  
  
  
  
Suddenly, white-hot pain swiped across his belly like a whiplash. He gasped, looking down to see the once-pristine bandages stained with blood. _ Lilium, _he thought,_ where is she?  
  
  
  
 _Ring. Ring. Ring.  
  
  
  
Ring. Ring. Ring.  
  
  
  
Harry bolted forwards then, his hand clenched over his stomach. Blood burst over his hands but he kept running, running down the black tiled halls, the ringing growing in his ears until he feared his eardrums would burst. He flew through the never-ending hallway, his legs were burning now and his head was throbbing with the sound. And then, suddenly, there it was.  
  
  
  
In the middle off the hallway sat a large, old-fashioned telephone.  
  
  
  
Harry swallowed hard, wincing now at the pain in his belly as he limped towards the phone, wanting to end the eerie ringing._ What’s a muggle telephone doing in the middle of the Department of Mysteries? _He wondered as he plucked the handset from the receiver and brought it to his ear.  
  
  
  
“Hello? Draco?” He asked. There was silence for a moment and then a shrill, helpless scream that made his blood run cold. A baby’s scream. _ His _baby’s scream! “Lilium? Draco?! What’s happening?!” But the baby continued to cry, a heart-wrenching sound that brought tears to his eyes. Someone was hurting his baby?  
  
  
  
And then, suddenly, the cries ceased, cut off as if they never were. He wet his suddenly dry lips then as the other end of the line was filled with heavy, slow breaths. Like a scene out of a horror film, Harry went rigid with fright. “Who are you?” He demanded, tears cascading over his lashes. “What have you done with my daughter? Where’s Draco?”  
  
  
  
A low, dark chuckle filled his ears then and a shudder ran up Harry’s spine. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled and his skin pimpled with goosebumps.   
  
  
  
“Tell me where my daughter is?! Let me speak to Draco!” He insisted. But the menacing laughter grew louder, louder until Harry was screaming to be heard over it and suddenly he jerked away, dropping the handset that had grown red-hot in his hand. He hissed through his teeth, staring down at his bloodied, burned hand. But the laughter was still there, all around him now and he whirled on the spot only this time, he didn’t see an empty hall. Lucius Malfoy stood there, laughing.  
  
  
  
“Where’s Draco?” Harry demanded again, his voice a mere broken sob, “Where’s my daughter?!” The laughter was his only answer.  
  
  
  
Lucius’s gloved hand shot forwards and seized Harry’s throat. Harry choked on a scream, his bloodied hands clawing at Lucius’s hand. He felt Lucius shake him, lift him clean off his feet as he strangled the life from him and Harry’s eyes rolled back into his head, his breath leaving him…_  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
Lucius snarled through a triumphant smile at the bloody chaos before him, his fingers clenching tightly around Narcissa’s throat. She gasped and spluttered for air, her pristine fingers clawing at his gloved talons. “N-No – your son!” She gasped, scrambling for freedom, “Y-Your g-granddaughter! S-Stop this!”   
  
  
  
Lucius sneered at his wife, lifting her face up so that his spittle splashed over her skin, which was quickly turning blue from lack of air. “I give the orders, not you, you dirty little harlot!” With that, he tossed her to the side, sending her hurtling through the side table, where she moved no more.  
  
  
  
“Now then, Draco,” Lucius hissed, surveying the scene. Two healers were torn between stopping him and stopping the blood from Potter’s still open belly, O’Dempsy was clutching a bloody, struggling infant to her chest and backing away, her wand trained on him. Draco, however, was frozen at the bedside.  
  
  
  
“Whatever your rotten intentions or personal vendettas, this boy needs to be stitched up before he bleeds to death,” O’Dempsy insisted, her voice hard and unmoved, reminding Draco of old McGonagall. She pulled the baby tight to her protectively. “This child is a relation of yours; she needs to be checked over. This is _not_ the place for a battlefield! Take it outside!”  
  
  
  
Draco stood up then, his body rigid with fury, “Take care of Harry,” he ordered those in the room, before flying at his father. A fist cracked across his jaw but instead of dropping like a wounded animal, Draco snarled, barrelling into his father, seizing him round the waist and throwing them both into the other room. The bedroom door slammed shut, magically locking behind them and Draco scrambled to his feet, searching his pockets for his wand. “Well?” Draco sneered fiercely. “What the fuck do you want?!” Still searching for his wand, Draco’s eyes widened as a startling red light bolted towards him. He yelped, rolling to the side and landing flat on his back.   
  
  
  
_There’s no time for this!_ His mind declared. _Harry is in there, bleeding to death! He needs me with him! My daughter needs me!_  
  
  
  
Suddenly, a sharp tug on his hair had him sprawled across the floor. He screamed, clawing at his father’s hand as he felt the hair being ripped nearly clean from his scalp. “Get off me!” He snarled, struggling for freedom, crying out as his father dragged him out into the hall and down the cold, hard marble staircase.  
  
  
  
Lucius threw his son onto the hard floor of the main foyer, drawing his wand. And suddenly Draco remembered his wand, not on him but placed on the unit in his and Harry's room.  
  
  
  
His eyes widened, his breath hard and sharp.  
  
  
  
 _I’m going to die._  
  
  
  
“ _Crucio_!” He heard his father spit and suddenly his body jerked in manic spasms, arching up off the floor like a dying serpent.  
  
  
  
“Ahhh! Nnngggh!” He screamed out. It hurt. It hurt so badly his very blood turned to acid in his veins. His body arched and writhed with every surge of unbearable, fiery agony, delivered by his own father’s hand. “Stop… P-Please…s-stop!” How could this day have started so blissfully and ended in such bloodshed?  
  
  
  
But then, suddenly, from the shadows, his saviour stepped and Lucius stopped in place.  
  
  
  
“Ah, the traitor himself,” Lucius crooned, glancing down with disdain at his son. “Seducing another man’s wife in his own house? I would’ve thought you better than that, Severus. How did you win her favour? Fanciful romantics? Playing the part with that runt they’re calling my granddaughter?”  
  
  
  
Severus approached slowly, his own wand held loosely in his hand, dark eyes flitting down nervously to Draco, who lay convulsing on the floor. “Narcissa hasn’t been your ‘wife’ in anything but name for a long time, Lucius,” Severus sneered, “And any man that has sinned the way you have does not deserve the family you claim to _own._ ”  
  
  
  
Lucius gave an almost deranged smirk. He knew there was no crawling back from this, no way of justifying or reclaiming his blissfully pristine life. So there was nothing left for him, nothing but to ruin his family and take it down with him.  
  
  
  
“Well, if I do not deserve these… _gifts_ I have, perhaps I should…get rid of them?” He mused, glancing down at Draco, then back up the stairs, almost mockingly. He caught Draco’s chin with his cane, lifting his head with the spiteful object so that he could glare down into his son’s distressed face. “What do you think, Draco? There might not be much left of Potter to erase by what I glimpsed, but I could begin with choking the life out of that bastard child of yours?”   
  
  
  
Snape stepped forwards and Lucius stopped him with a glare. “Potter brought my family to ruins, Severus, corrupted my perfect son by manipulating his heart–”  
  
  
  
“Thank Merlin for Narcissa, or your son wouldn’t _have_ a heart,” Severus retorted coolly and Lucius pressured Draco’s chin in retaliation.  
  
  
  
“Do not interfere, _Severus_ ,” he hissed, his voice smooth and snake-like with venom. He inclined his head to meet Draco’s eyes again. “What do you think Draco? Shall I begin with your wailing brat or your dying _wife_?!”   
  
  
  
“Fuck you…”  
  
  
  
“Pardon?” Lucius cooed.   
  
  
  
“I said fuck you! Just _fuck you_!” Draco bolted to his feet, seizing his father’s ruffled collar with one hand. He slammed his clenched fist into that high, proud cheekbone. His father’s wand burst with light, a blind flash that sliced into his cheek like a whip through butter. Draco wailed, blood rushing down his face, pooling on his shirt.   
  
  
  
“Don't talk to me like that _boy_ ,” Lucius sneered darkly.  
  
  
  
“I'm not _your boy_ anymore!” Draco choked, wrenching free of his father and stumbling backwards, allowing Severus to step before him, his old teacher’s wand arm quivering with rage.  
  
  
  
“Do not sully your hands with him, Draco,” Severus murmured softly, his voice steady and certain, like death, like it had been when he had taken Dumbledore’s life on the tower years ago.   
  
  
  
Lucius chuckled darkly. “You think Draco will let you kill me, Severus? He knows that family is everything – he believes in the Malfoy name. He won’t just stand by and watch you cut me down.”  
  
  
  
Severus didn’t look back at Draco, but he could _feel_ his uncertainty, how easy Lucius’s words may sway him. “He is not a child to manipulate as you wish, he is a man and he has Harry and his daughter to think of now, that makes him strong enough to turn away from you at last – for their sake.”  
  
  
  
“Draco will do as he is told, as he always has,” Lucius breathed, turning his wand on Snape. “And you will disappear, once and for all. _Crucio!_ ”  
  
  
  
“ _Expulso_!”  
  
  
  
Both spells exploded from their master’s wands at once, clashing in a chaotic light and Severus shoved Draco back out of harms way before turning on Lucius again. “ _Levicorpus_!”  
  
  
  
“ _Protego_! You cannot defeat me with school boy spells, _Severus_ ; you need to have more heart than that!”  
  
  
  
Severus glanced back to Draco. This needed to be done and if he could end it without Draco needing to be the one raising the wand, he would. He would spare Draco the title of murderer over and over again if need be. But there Draco stood, white as a sheet, horror in his eyes.  
  
  
  
“ _Crucio_!” Cried Lucius and Snape deflected it – barely, sweat dusting his brow as he looked to Draco again.   
  
  
  
“Draco?” Snape asked. It looked like Draco was about to break…  
  
  
  
“Just…just fucking _kill him_!” He yelled, voice hysterical. “Do it now!” Draco turned his face away from the scene. What choice did he have? He would not be manipulated anymore. Not anymore. But he could not watch at the same time. _Such a coward,_ his mind spat at him in a voice that echoed Lucius’s. But if this didn't happen now or soon, Lucius would be able to hurt the people he loved. He had to protect them at all costs.  
  
  
  
He heard the curses flare, bursting through the air towards their opponents. Still he didn't look. He couldn't seem to take his eyes away from the worn portrait in the corner; a family painting, from a time when he was happier, so small and naive, just a boy without the worries he now carried. Untainted by his father’s cruelty. He sometimes wished he could have but a glimpse of those times, to try to remember what it was like to be so careless, free, and innocent. But it was a hopeless dream. That image, it was a lie, his childhood was a lie.   
  
  
  
But he had the truth now.   
  
  
  
He had a real family, had happiness even if it wasn’t innocent, he had love, had people to share that love with and they were more important than anything else. More important than the life he once knew. That was something his father, much like the Dark Lord, could never understand. True, selfless love.  
  
  
  
So obsessed with his own desires, instead of loving his only child, Lucius had tried to control Draco with fear. He _had_ controlled him with fear and he had been so certain that Draco was under his thumb because of that terror, that he hadn’t even seen what was happening right before his eyes. Because he didn’t understand it and never would. Draco’s feelings for Harry, Harry’s growing feelings for Draco, the way love had the ability to change you, make you a better person. Lucius would never comprehend that.  
  
  
  
A blood-curdling scream filled the air as Severus staggered backwards, the marble statuette Lucius had levitated towards him colliding with his shoulder – _hard_ , making it dislocate with a sickening _snap._  
  
  
  
“I will – _will not_ be betrayed!” Lucius bellowed, blond hair dishevelled and his clothes torn in places where the curses had grazed him. Severus supported himself against the wall, struggling for breath as he kept his wand aloft, despite the burning, despite the need to clutch his dislocated shoulder.   
  
  
  
“It is you who betrayed them in the first place by defiling your son,” Snape snarled with disgust. “ _Expulso_!”  
  
  
  
“ _Protego_!” Lucius waved it off, the curse bursting the perfect marble tiles just off to the right instead. A cruel, manic smile was at his lips now as he looked over to Draco, who had wandered away from the scene, but was inevitably rooted there all the same. “He loved every minute, every touch. I instructed him against temptation and weakness as any good father should. If I had continued to instruct him against Harry Potter he would be–”   
  
  
  
“Miserable, alone and probably drowning in booze or drugs up some back-alley loathing himself,” Severus finished for him. “And the only thing he loved about your _lessons_ was when they stopped!”  
  
  
  
“Yes, it was a pity the Dark Lord saw fit to use him, I am afraid I lost interest in him after I knew he’d been with another. He was so… _perfect_ , too…”   
  
  
  
“I've seen and heard a lot of sick things, insufferable, wretched things, but you are by far the most despicable, disgusting man creature I have ever had the misfortune to cross, Lucius Malfoy,” Severus snarled in a mix of pain and revulsion. “To think, there once was a time when I coincided with you, _protected_ you. I have always been fond of your family, but _you_ … You’re shameful, a pitiable slip of a man. Any good man would have died to keep their child out of harms way; instead, you _used_ him to please your own sick desires and ultimately bargained him to the Dark Lord for his favour.   
  
  
  
“You would have me coddle him? Make him weak with useless affections?” Lucius chuckled darkly. “Like _Potter's_ parents? Look where that got him? He is–”  
  
  
  
“Happy!” Draco insisted, cutting across his father’s foul tongue. He whirled to face them again. “At first he might not have been, but now he is the happiest he has ever been, and with _me_ , Father. He… He _healed_ me, wiped away the filth you’d soiled be with. He has his flaws but he is the bravest, most kind-hearted man I have ever met. And his parents’ love and sacrifice enabled to him be that person. It made him able to live and conquer anything the world threw at him.”  
  
  
  
Draco didn’t stop, unable to pause to even draw breath with the fury and hurt and adrenaline that was rushing through his core. “Seeing the world, _life_ from his point of view made me realise how much you warped mine. But you never saw it, you still _don’t_ see it. Because you’re selfish, it’s all about you, it was when you served… _Voldemort_ and it still is now. You’re a brute and a tyrant, just like him, like Voldemort, and a world without you is a better one!”  
  
  
  
Draco gasped for breath, gathering his fury and struggling to retain his composure. He was a better man than Lucius, after all. When he had his breath back, he gave a gleeful sneer. “Besides, I got what I wanted after all, didn’t I? Harry chose me. The _Chosen one_ , chose me.” Somehow, he knew that fact would get under his father’s skin the most. But a few seconds later, he wished he hadn't spoken. His body was thrown backwards; the air was knocked from his lungs as he slammed into a marble column. Blood burst from his mouth, his chest on fire. His body writhing on the floor.  
  
  
  
“I warned you time and time again that loving the Potter boy was folly, that he’d ruin you and look where we are Draco! _Ruin_!” He brandished his wand again, a blinding red light slicing into Draco’s skin, carving a bloody gash into his chest. A second crossed over the first so that a thin river of blood raced down Draco’s torso. “You welcomed ruin into our house! You fucked it in your bloody bed!” Lucius snarled. “A few months! You were supposed to use him to our advantage, for name and fortune for a few months and then I would get rid of him! It was all planned! You ruined it by following your selfish, black little heart! You ruined us!”  
  
  
  
That wand raised again, Lucius’s eyes burning with a manic, hopelessness. The fire of a man that had nothing left to lose. Those eyes locked with Draco’s across the room but just as he moved to throw a finishing curse, Severus flew forward, slamming his good elbow, full force into Lucius’s sternum, sending him hurtling backwards onto the stairs.  
  
  
  
Lucius landed with a hard _thump,_ his body sprawled across the unforgiving, perfect floor. Severus stood over him, fuming, his wand shaking in his hand. “ _Sectumsempra_!”  
  
  
  
Blood burst from every pore of Lucius’s body, his limbs jerking with spasms and his mouth open without screams. A crimson pool grew beneath him, and he shook uncontrollably, a sickening, croaky groan leaving his lips as he slid an unsteady, gloved hand into his pocket, pulling out a battered looking muggle matchbox.  
  
  
  
Too late it was, when Severus realised what was happening…  
  
  
  
“No! A portkey! Stop him!” He screamed but as he surged to knock it from Lucius’s grasp, the man vanished, leaving only a puddle of blood behind on the black marble stairs. Severus pounded the banister furiously with his fist. So close! They were so close and he had escaped to regroup and attack another day! Growling under his breath at his own stupidity, he turned to face Draco.  
  
  
  
Draco lay broken on the floor, surrounded by a pool of his own, thick, black blood. Screaming at the top of his lungs.  
  
   
  
“I…I thought I ruined it…Y-You… You ruined this, my entire life! Any time I ever lost anything! You’re the one who fucked me over! Time and time again! Harry…he…he had _every reason to hate me,_ but he saved me! SAVED ME!” Draco cried out in agony, his lungs and throat tearing. But Lucius was no longer there to hear those words and Draco's vision blurred warningly, his senses failing. He wouldn’t have known whether Lucius was there or not.  
  
  
  
“I feel… _cold_ ,” he moaned, shivering, only causing himself more pain with that involuntary movement. He winced, his eyes blind and glassy. “Harry…Harry…s-save me…” Everything fell dark. He pushed his eyelids open further, as if that would help. It didn’t. This was it, wasn't it? He was going to die, wasn't he? “I hate you, father,” he hissed.  
  
  
  
“Draco, it's Severus,” the potions master pleaded, “Come, please…do not let it take you.” He raised his wand, panic sweeping through his body even though his hand was steady. He had to stop the bleeding now!  
  
  
  
A vile, bitter ache in his chest throbbed, rising in his throat until it felt as if he were choking. The last time he had seen Draco like this, it seemed an eternity away from now, when he had watched his blond hair soak up blood and water on the icy floor of Moaning Myrtle’s Bathroom. He watched him now, as he did then, choke on lack of air, cry out in pain and the wand in Severus’s hand glowed brilliantly. “ _Vulnera Sanentur_!” He chanted rhythmically, the sound and beat hard to manage in his restricted chest.   
  
  
  
It would not do to break to crumble now, not and fail Draco worse than he had ever before.  
  
  
  
“ _Vulnera Sanentur_!” It was clearer this time, a gentle, song-like rumble and he watched the wound close slowly, although splatters of blood still remained on his garments. That mattered little, when he saw Draco’s eyes focus, saw the light come back to those stormy eyes, the fire, the life. “ _Vulnera Sanentur_!” His eyes trained on Draco’s face now, he was deathly pale but his mouth was moving silently, as if he were trying to speak.   
  
  
  
“ _Vulnera Sanentur_!” Still, Severus did not dare interrupt the spell to ask Draco if he was alright. “ _Vulnera Sanentur_!” And then, Draco spluttered, as if recovering from drowning, his body jerking a little. Finally, coherent sound escaped his lips.   
  
  
  
Draco coughed, and then spluttered, the overwhelming blanket of ice slowly banished by the warmth of Severus’s spell. But he knew something wasn’t right. Even though he felt himself breathing again, he could still feel that something had happened; he still ached and trembled, as if the wounds remained under his healed skin. He gasped suddenly, his vision slowly clearing until he could _just_ make out the sight of Severus leaning over him. “W-What…what happened?” He whispered, his throat raw. Slowly still, he sat up, his hand searching his bloody skin for wounds he wouldn’t find. “Is he…I…?”  
  
  
  
“Draco, you’re alright,” Severus said calmly. “Just hush for now.”  
  
  
  
Draco winced, the immense pain shocking him so much that he tore open his bloody shirt frantically; only find bright red scars where the wounds had been. “Bloody hell, I…” He couldn't stand it. He didn't know if he was going to heave in pain or the sight of how ugly it looked. What would Harry think of him now?  
  
  
  
He froze then. Remembering.  
  
  
  
Harry.  
  
  
  
“Harry, where is he? Take me to him.” Draco demanded. Severus nodded.  
  
  
  
“I think we should get you sorted out first,” Severus advised. “They won’t let you anywhere near either of them looking as you do.” With that, he flicked his wand, mending Draco’s shirt and cleaning his wounds and hair of blood as best he could without real water and soap.  
  
  
  
“Now that you look vaguely respectable,” Severus murmured, helping Draco to his feet and to the stairs. “Draco, are you certain you would not rather…? We do not know what state he will be in once we get there. If he is… If it is the worst, do you really wish to see him that way?”  
  
  
  
Draco’s face was set with determination, however, and he seemed to ignore the fact that Snape had even spoken. He stumbled at the great task that was the main staircase, though and Snape supported his arm all the way to the top, feeling the way Draco trembled with fear as they moved closer to his and Harry’s suite.   
  
  
  
_If that idiot boy dies doing something heroic, it will kill Draco, too,_ Snape thought, glancing to Draco once more. “Are you ready for whatever outcome?” He asked again. Again, Draco said nothing and simply pushed open the door.  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
Suddenly, Harry jerked weakly upwards, startled to find himself flat on his back. His eyes fluttered open but his glasses were gone and his vision was blurry, he could see nothing but a dark green blur above that he knew was the canopy of his and Draco’s bed. _Draco_? He thought, panic surging anew in his belly, which felt like it had been ripped clean out then stuffed back in again hastily. He groaned in pain, reaching up to touch his face, finding it soaked with tears.  
  
  
  
“D-Draco?” Harry rasped with no small amount of difficulty. His throat felt raw, as if he’d been screaming for hours and he realised then that he had been dreaming. _Nightmare-ing,_ his mind supplied, the echoes of his baby’s cries filling him with anguish once more. Feeling movement at his bedside he rolled towards it and cried out weakly at the agony that ripped through his body. His stomach, it ached like he’d never known and he reached down to touch it gingerly through the duvet. He found the bump he’d grown so used to absent.  
  
  
  
“Draco?” He gasped again, reaching out blindly with one hand. It was soon grasped by familiarly soft, warm fingers, the bed dipping and his tears swept away gently by Draco’s thumb.  
  
  
  
“I’m here,” Draco answered, his own voice husky as if exhausted, emotionally and physically. Harry welcomed the warmth against him in the bed, pressing his lips against Draco’s blur of a hand.  
  
  
  
“I – I was dreaming, I… How long was I asleep? What happened? What’s…?” But Draco pulled him tight against him, as tight as he dared and Harry’s senses were full of Draco, drowned by him. He clung to him then, as if he hadn’t seen him in forever. _As if I thought I’d never see him again_ , he recalled and with dread, he slowly began to remember what had happened before he blacked out.  
  
  
  
“D-Did…did I die?” He asked, pressing his cheek into Draco’s chest, “How long was I… _out_ for?”  
  
  
  
“Harry, relax,” Draco tried, trying to get Harry to calm down. But the scar across Draco's face seemed all too prominent, giving some foreboding realness to the dream Harry had suffered through. “You…you did black out when my father stepped through the door, but…Severus came and…well it's not over, but he injured him. But you're alright. Lilium’s alright, she’s okay, Harry,” Draco promised, with no small amount of relief and husky delight in his voice. “We thought we had lost you for a minute there, but you're alright,” Draco said again, as if he were just coming to terms with it himself, his voice croaky and teary.  
  
  
  
A moment passed, in which Harry’s mind twisted and jerked with a sensation akin to vertigo. Then Draco leant into him and held him as tightly as he could in his condition. Harry glanced around and saw familiar faces that he hadn't noticed before, all gathered about his bed. Narcissa, Severus, and the three healers who were tending to the baby.  
  
  
  
It felt like his insides had been torn out through his navel and stamped on before being shoved brutally back inside. His head was throbbing and his stomach felt heavy and numb. His skin itched. But his chest swelled with warmth. Disbelief rushed through him. They had all survived it? They were all alright?  
  
  
  
His mouth moved soundlessly for a moment, his fingers clenching around Draco’s as he glanced between him and where Lilium was being held by a fussing Narcissa. “She’s alright?” He asked again, not really daring to believe it. “And I’m…I’m… And are you alright?” He could hear how foggy and croaky his voice was, could sense Draco’s need to be close by and he wondered just how bad he had looked a few hours ago…  
  
  
  
“Don't worry about me when it's _you_ lying there, you idiot,” Draco teased, and Harry managed to smile, which Draco reciprocated. “She's beautiful, Harry, I'm so proud of you,” he breathed, laying a kiss on Harry’s forehead. “I can't believe you did it! Our baby, Harry. Something that's part of you and me…”  
  
  
  
Taking advantage of Draco and Harry’s distraction, Snape pulled Narcissa aside quickly. “Lucius escaped,” Snape whispered. “I am so sorry to have failed you.”  
  
  
  
She had recovered from the attack with nothing more than a headache and a dark circle of bruising around her throat and right eye, thankfully, no permanent damage from Lucius’s brutality.  
  
  
  
Narcissa smoothed her hand over Snape's cheek in answer, her kind eyes assuring him it was _better_ than okay. “Please, Severus, I am just relieved that you and Draco are alright after such a confrontation. I felt sick with so much happening at once.” She turned then, ushering the healers out and setting the baby down in the bassinet beside the bed, finally looking to Draco and Harry.   
  
  
  
“We will give you both a little while alone while we sort things out for you,” she said softly. Draco nodded and both Narcissa and Severus left the room, closing the door behind them.  
  
  
  
“Alone at last, hmm?” Draco said, his eyes turning back to Harry. They were glassy and red with already shed tears, but happy.  
  
  
  
“I feel like road kill,” Harry grumbled, still smiling as he glanced over to the bassinet at the side. “Worth it though. I told you we’d both be fine.” He saw Draco give him a playful frown out of the corner of his eye. After almost dying it seemed Draco would be most lenient and Harry’s smile changed to fond mischievousness, as he wondered how long it would last before all returned to normal.   
  
  
  
“Can… Can I see her?” Harry asked softly, glancing to Draco then. “That is…can you bring her to me?”  
  
  
  
Draco flushed. He hadn't really had a proper chance to look at her himself with everything going on and he felt a little ashamed that he had forgotten her. “Yes, of course,” he replied, turning to the cot and gazing on her for a moment. “Born with silvery blond hair, I suppose you’ll have the looks of your more handsome father after all,” he joked, scooping her up and turning to Harry with her in his arms.  
  
  
  
“You really are a bastard for making fun of me while I'm in this state!” Harry complained, his frown dissipating when Draco placed Lilium in his arms.   
  
  
  
A smile so great it made his face ache spread across his lips then, corner to corner of absolute joy. She was really his. And on top of that, he was sharing her, _this moment_ with Draco; there was no better feeling in the world. Something that was both theirs, that they had made. It was more than amazing, more than _magical_.  
  
  
  
“She's amazing, Harry. Thank you,” Draco croaked, overwhelmed. He winced then, deciding to get the bad new out in the open. Harry hated being kept in the dark. “Harry, I…I think there's something you should know. My father, he…he got away,” Draco began rigidly, loathing that he was the one to steal that smile from Harry’s lips so soon. But his husband would have to know sooner or later and Harry hated being the last to know something important. “I promise I'll carry on protecting you both, Harry.”  
  
  
  
Draco looped his free arm around Harry's neck and cuddled him closely. It was a subtle, softer intimacy, just being there, together with their new daughter. “You're going to have to remain in bed for a few days to recover, you realise? It really does mean you have to let me do more for you, because your body needs to heal after that.” His tone was commanding, insistent and Harry nodded with a yawn, not awake enough to argue that he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself.  
  
  
  
“Alright then,” he mumbled, giving his husband a tired smile. “Bring me a bottle of milk, I want to feed her before your mother comes back and forces a sleeping draught down my throat.” He thought he heard Draco chuckle at the truth in that statement, before climbing off the bed. Harry’s arm shot out, stilling him in his step.   
  
  
  
Brilliant green eyes were shining and bright again, staring deep into him. “I love you,” Harry breathed, the air in his lungs bursting out with those words, relieving his aching body of its weight momentarily. He flushed then. “I love our daughter, and I love you…so much. I wanted you to know, now that I’m definitely not going to die.” He gave a nervous laugh and tugged Draco down to mesh their lips together. Softly, chastely, with Draco’s fingers feathering over his cheeks delicately.   
  
  
  
When they slipped apart, their panting breaths came out in frantic gasps and their lashes fluttered, eyes meeting again before a small whimper drew their eyes downward. Two big, green eyes stared up at them, blinking slowly, as if temporarily blinded by the light of the world.   
  
  
  
Draco’s hand slipped down to caress the soft, blond halo of hair on his daughter’s head. “You have no idea how long I've waited for you to say that to me,” Draco said his eyes leaving Lilium to take in Harry’s expression. “I'll just…” He pointed to the door behind him meaning the milk and gave a fleeting smile before stepping out.   
  
  
  
The door closed behind him and he leant back against it, sliding down to the floor. His eyes watered, brimming with tears that he couldn’t stop from flowing. They cascaded over his lashes, trailing down his cheeks treacherously. He felt like his heart was about to break out of his chest. Harry loved him. _Loved_ him.   
  
  
  
Forcing himself to his feet, he decided to take a walk down to the kitchens instead of summoning Eric. He didn’t want to rush and have to go back to Harry looking like this, after all. He let his feet guide him without really being aware of his surroundings, his thoughts swamping his brain, his heart swollen and so full of warmth and love that his body was as heavy as led with it.  
  
  
  
 _I can't believe this is real_ , he thought. _I…I have Harry, and a…a_ baby, _Lilium._ She was so beautiful, like a little porcelain doll. He couldn’t believe it was possible that he and Harry had somehow _made_ a life. _No matter what, I'll protect them. I'll lay down my life if that’s what it takes to keep them both safe._  
  
  
  
By the time he was making his way back up the stairs, milk in one hand and a glass of fresh pumpkin juice in the other, the overwhelmed, blissful tears dried up and faded into a smile. A true, carefree smile. Something that he hadn't genuinely managed for some time, (not without something overshadowing his happiness) and as he smiled, he realised that he couldn't stop. Carefully, he opened the door and gazed upon his beautiful husband and new born. “And I love you too, Harry, both of you,” he said, by way of delayed answer, his voice tender and blithe.  
  
  
  
Harry smiled up at him, gesturing for Draco to join him on the bed again as the blond handed him the bottle. Their daughter was still staring up at them, as if sizing them up, that was, until Harry distracted that proud little stare with the bottle and she drank greedily. “She’s got your sweet tooth,” Harry chuckled, leaning into Draco’s shoulder tiredly when Draco nestled against him on the bed. He felt Draco’s breath rustle his hair a little and he smiled, exhausted but content, his head lolling a bit.  
  
  
  
Draco’s arm came about to support him and Lilium so she could feed still and Harry made a non-committal sound of bliss, turning his head a little more to nuzzle into Draco’s neck. “Love you…nice to be able to say that now,” he mumbled, eyelids flickering tiredly, and then, sleep took him again, to a calmer, gentler dreamland this time. Whether Lucius was lurking in the shadows or not, Harry was sure they’d get through this, they _would.  
  
  
  
  
  
~To Be Continued..._


	26. Lifetime Adjustments

[Twenty-Six]  
 **Lifetime Adjustments**  
  
  
  
  
Severus Snape turned his head from where Narcissa persisted in trying to capture his attention with baby Lilium, swaddled in the blanket Molly Weasley had made and gifted to Harry at the baby shower. He would _not_ be trapped into holding her, though she was the newest, most precious member of their family, he was loathed to admit he could not hold a child and never had done in his life. So it was, that he kept his eyes away from where Narcissa sat beside him, cooing over her _beautiful, stunning, granddaughter,_ and focussed instead on where Harry lay, still exhausted in the bed they were sitting next to.  
  
“The healer informed us you were healing well,” Severus said to Harry, snapping the boy from his daze. He kept staring off towards the bathroom door, through which Draco had disappeared a little while ago. Severus was not sure what had transpired between the boys last night after Lilium was born, but they seemed inseparable this morning. Harry oddly clingy and Draco reluctant to leave the bedside to so much as wash (unless he was doing something for Harry or the baby).  
  
It wasn’t until Snape and Narcissa had promised they would stay did Draco drag himself into the bathroom.  
  
“You do look pale, however, I must remember to leave some potions for you,” Severus continued, trying to ignore Narcissa leaning closer with a wide-awake and fussing newborn. “Do stop trying to force your granddaughter on me, Narcissa,” he murmured, with no real force or harshness. He was always a perfectly sincere gentleman with Narcissa, Harry could not help but notice.  
  
“But she is simply so beautiful, Severus, you should try holding her, even just once,” she murmured. “Draco used to be like this, so small and vulnerable…”  
  
Snape’s eyes narrowed as they looked on her then, not liking the tone of that voice. “Do not even think about it, Narcissa,” he warned.  
  
“I wasn't,” she laughed, “perhaps I will simply steal little Lilium, hmm?”  
  
“I'm sorry, Mother, but she is one-hundred percent mine and Harry's, but feel free to babysit whenever me and Harry want some time off,” Draco said as he made his way back into the room, holding the bathroom door open to allow Spinks to scamper out after him and perch on the bed beside Harry. Draco smiled at his mother, before looking to his old potions teacher. “Severus, could I…? Would anyone like tea?” Draco asked.  
  
Harry and Narcissa nodded and Draco gave the professor a meaningful look. Understanding instantly, the man stood. “A splendid idea, Draco, a good turn is always done best when you do it yourself, after all. It wouldn’t do to rely on the elves too much to pamper your husband,” Snape said, following Draco from the room. Closing the door behind them, they left Draco and Harry’s suite in the direction of the kitchens, silent until they were well out of sight of the door.  
  
“Draco, what did you want to discuss that could not be spoken of in front of your mother and Harry?” Snape asked, following the boy he cared for so greatly down the grand stairs and towards the kitchens.  
  
Draco stopped at the bottom of the stairs, not strong enough to force himself to face the old potions master. “I just want to know…to have _some_ idea of what will happen next, with Lucius,” he said quietly.  “I’m…I'm petrified that he might come back, I _know_ he will and with Harry and Lilium so weak, I–” Draco felt Severus’s hands come to rest on his shoulders then, calming him instantly and he was turned by those strong hands to find that dark gaze focused completely on him.  
  
“Lucius was fairly wounded in our… _confrontation_. I suspect he will need at least a few days to lick his wounds,” Severus explained, “that will give us some time to prepare, at least. I regret that Lilium’s timing rendered us a little powerless against Lucius, but we will not let him catch us off guard again.” Snape regarded him closely then, his onyx eyes staring deep into Draco’s tired face. “You concern yourself with your daughter and Harry; I will deal with Lucius along with our acquaintance, Mr Dewglas. Don’t let your father spoil anymore of your future. Today you should be happy, not worried.”  
  
He watched Draco nod awkwardly, slightly reassured but still tense, apprehensive for what was to come. This could not go on much longer, he, Severus would hunt Lucius down himself if it brought Draco some sort of peace at last.  
  
“Draco. I saw you falter when you faced him, Lucius,” Severus murmured softly, seeing Draco wince at his words, as if he had hoped Snape would have missed that. Snape continued. “I hope to take the burden from you; I hope that I can…spare you from the horror of taking a life, however… If you face Lucius on your own again, you cannot falter like that again, you cannot give him an opening in which he can hurt you, or Harry, or Lilium or your mother. He is relying on your weakness for him, because he is your father. I fear if I am not there, you may have to be strong and make the unfair decision…”  
  
He watched Draco wince; blink hard as if to fight the tumult of emotions brewing behind his eyes. Snape himself tensed then, awkward at the sight of such vulnerability and one of the hands on Draco’s shoulder patted the back of his neck uncomfortably, before he pulled him against his chest in an embrace, forsaking his pride. He felt Draco tremble in his struggle to hold it together. “Just a little more,” Snape reminded him calmly, “Just a little more, then it will be alright.”  
  
“It’s just human nature to worry, Severus. I’ve been given the most wonderful gift, I want to protect it, with my life,” Draco stated. “Thank you, Severus. You have been…well…more of a father to me than Lucius has ever been.” Draco smiled. He had such trust and respect for Snape and a love that could not be _beaten_ into a child. And this man seemed to be making his mother happy, which was also important to him. Severus was everything that Lucius _should_ have been.  
  
They fetched the tray of tea in silence, in fact, it wasn’t until they were approaching his and Harry’s wing did Draco speak again. “If it's alright with you, Severus, would you and mother mind taking Lilium for a few hours? I know it is soon, but… Harry seems to be sleeping when she does and focusing on her when awake. I'd like to spend some alone time with Harry for a few hours…if that’s alright?”  
  
The professor’s shoulders stiffened and he considered the request for a moment, not ever really being the kind to care for a baby. The last baby he had held, after all had been Draco, briefly, and just the once. After a moment, he gave Draco a small nod, but as Draco turned to reach for the door handle, Snape caught his shoulder, stilling him.  
  
“Draco, there is…another matter I would like to discuss with you, now that we are alone,” Severus murmured softly, so quiet his words were nearly lost in the empty hallway. He lowered his eyes uncomfortably, not ready to look in Draco in the eyes with his following words. “Your mother and I have been friends for some time. I have…respected her for many years, but of late, we have grown closer. Amorously close. I would… I would deeply desire your blessing, for me to ask for your mother’s hand now that her parting from Lucius is finalised.”  
  
Draco's eyes widened impossibly. He felt choked, suffocating on his own breath. It was strange, even though he had known in his gut that _something_ was going on, to hear Severus actually _say it aloud_ to him… His eyes closed, a shallow breath drawing in through his lips as a smile found them. “I want her to be happy. And if you can make her happy then you have my blessing,” Draco said slowly. He did feel a little nostalgic and sad that his father wasn't the one to make his mother happy, but then, he was not so young and naïve that he believed Lucius was her only chance at that happiness. Severus was the better man, in any case.  
  
 _He’ll do a better job as husband_ and _father, no doubt,_ Draco thought. He had always been grateful to Severus for always trying to be there for him, for helping his family even when Lucius had been around. When Lucius’s failure had brought chaos down on them, Severus had struggled to lift the burden. _He must have loved mother for sometime too,_ Draco realised. _And to see my father with her must have hurt him…_  
  
Draco knew he had once loved Lily Potter, and only because Harry had once entrusted him with that information. Knowing that and caring for Severus, Draco could not help but be happy that Severus finally loved another and that it was someone as deserving as his mother. How could he _not_ give his blessing? “Just don't ever hurt her,” Draco warned and Severus bowed his head. Draco did wonder what Harry would think about this turn of events. He would probably be happy that Severus’s heart had healed enough for him to begin life with another. He deserved it as much as Narcissa did, after all.  
  
Severus Snape gave the boy he had struggled to take care of a thoughtful look, before the beginnings of a smile touched his thin lips. He bowed his head gratefully, his hand reaching forwards to squeeze Draco’s shoulder firmly. “Thank you, Draco,” he murmured, before the chamber door they had been standing by flew open, revealing Narcissa in the doorway. She smiled at the sight of them.  
  
“Harry’s been asking for you, dear,” She said softly to Draco, “I believe he’s not quite ready for separation just yet.” She chuckled and stepped aside, beckoning both men back in.  
  
Harry glanced up at them, smiling exhaustedly. Magic healed the deep slice across his stomach that the healers had made to get Lilium out, but the ache still remained, as if his insides were tender from bruising. The cause of all his trouble squirmed where he’d laid her across his chest, making small, senseless sounds and Harry stroked the tendrils of blonde hair absently, still feeling a little…odd to have her here at last.  
  
It felt like any moment someone would wake him up from this peculiar dream, like somehow, he didn’t really have the right to have her there. Like she couldn’t possibly be his or Draco’s. Just then, a small sound yanked him from his musings and he patted Lilium’s back on realising she had burped.  
  
“She’s greedy like you,” Harry teased when Draco came to sit on the bed beside him, and he grinned broadly as his husband gave him an amused scowl. “Feels weird to have her here at last – and to be able to see my feet.” His gaze moved to Narcissa and Snape then, standing beside his bed and looking closer, more _together_ than they had dared to look before. A glance back up at Draco’s pensive expression confirmed his suspicions. “So I suppose you’re Lilium’s Grandpa then, Snape?” He laughed, watching Snape glare even as his pale face flushed with humiliation.  
  
“You are an impudent little shit aren’t you, Potter? The brat will never call me such a thing,” he bit out, infuriated at being the centre of their amusement. “As it is,” Snape cut across their glee, “Your husband has asked Narcissa and I to take Lilium for a little while, for you.”  
  
Harry tensed a little at that. It had only been three days, and to have her being held by someone else next to his bed was one thing, to have her somewhere else completely, out of sight and hearing range…  
  
He swallowed, wondering if Draco was upset at all that Lilium hadn’t slept in her own room since she was born, hadn’t even be set down in that room yet. Chewing his lip, Harry wondered what he should say exactly, wondering if he was being irrational or not by hesitating at the thought of Lilium being taken out of the room, or if this was to be expected after everything Lucius and Freya and his underlings had done to try and sabotage them.  
  
Suddenly, Draco’s hand sliding over one of his drew his attention back up to his husband.  
  
“Don't look so worried, Mother and Severus are quite capable of caring for her and if you must know, I've…” Draco shot a glare to his mother and Snape. He didn't feel particularly comfortable talking about such things in front of others still. _But both they and Harry appreciate honesty,_ his mind whispered. He swallowed. “I've been a bit jealous that I’ve not had a moment with you alone. I…I want to spend a night with you, a few hours even, just us,” He admitted, quite flushed. Seeing the conflicted look on Harry’s face Draco hastily added, “Besides, Lilium should learn to share you like I have to,” in an attempt to assuage the tension.  
  
“You don't need to worry, Harry,” Narcissa assured him, and Snape nodded in agreement. “You could do with getting some extra rest and having my son wait on you anyway.”  
  
Harry inhaled deeply, feeling torn. Draco had been at his beck and call, but they hadn’t really had much time to even sit together without Lilium asleep in his arms or between them on the bed. He glanced down to his daughter then who was yawning widely and staring up at her parents with massive, green eyes. Harry smiled thoughtfully, thinking that she was a fairly quiet, easily satisfied child considering how young she was. He had been expecting a night terror, but she was shockingly well behaved, except when her beloved bottle was taken away…  
  
“Yeah,” he said at last, trying to push the uncertainty from his voice. It was only the thought that Lucius might be out there, after all that made him feel uneasy letting her out of his sight. He was sure that Narcissa and Snape could take care of her, and beyond that, he could see Narcissa coveting the sweet little blonde bundle from where she lay against Harry’s knees.  
  
“Of course you can take her for the night. It’d be…nice…” He still felt apprehensive about letting her out of his sight, of course, but she couldn’t stay on his bed forever…  
  
Just then, however, a loud _pop_ sounded and Eric appeared at the end of the bed, scowling at Harry. Harry’s eyes widened as the elf bounced towards him, clucking his tongue as he pushed a soft, white hat on Lilium’s head. “Master Harry Malfoy is not thinking of Young Mistress!” Eric scolded him, “Master Harry Malfoy is letting Young Mistress’s head get cold!”  
  
Harry scowled back with equal venom, ignoring Draco’s snort of laughter. “She’s fine! She’s my daughter I can take care of her!” He snapped and Eric shied back, subdued but not backing down.  
  
“Master Harry Malfoy’s temper is as foul as ever,” the elf grumbled, before looking to Draco. “Master Draco, a red-haired mob are at the floo, they is wishing to see Master Harry Malfoy and Young Mistress, Master,” he said, “Is Eric to let the red-haired mob in, Master Draco?”  
  
Harry blinked then, his temper disappearing at the mention of his overzealous second family. He’d told Eric to inform them that they’d had Lilium but he hadn’t heard from then since, until now. He glanced up to Draco then. “Just for a few minutes?” He asked, knowing how ridiculously insistent Draco had been about him ‘resting’ – as if anyone could strain anything when all they left the bed for was to pee…  
  
“Just for a few minutes and then your Mother and Snape can take Lilium for the night?” He could see the cogs working; see Draco weighing the pros and cons out in his head. Perhaps if Harry got his way now he’d be more amenable and less likely to sulk later on.  
  
 _Great,_ Draco thought. _As much as I appreciate their affection for Harry, this quite obviously eradicates my plans to have some alone time with him. Fucking Weasleys turning up out of the blue!_ Draco shot his husband a glare. A few minutes would easily turn into a few hours with them.  
  
“Fine!” He snapped, storming into the bathroom and slamming the door behind him. What was wrong with him? Everyone wanted Harry's time, of course they did! They loved him too, albeit not with the same possessiveness. But was he really going to be so angry over this? So _jealous_? Opening the cabinet, Draco reached inside for a potion to banish his brewing headache. He chucked the stated dose down quickly, before returning to Harry.  
  
Harry looked rather affronted now, but was already dressing himself in a garish Weasley jumper and some jeans regardless of Draco's sudden temper. Snape and his mother were already gone and the bedroom door was shut tight. _They were alone. At last._  
  
Approaching Harry cautiously, Draco stood behind him, hands in his pockets. “Harry?”  
  
Harry hissed as he tried to close his jeans over his still tender stomach, casting a glance back to Draco briefly to let him know he was listening. He gave up with the jeans quickly; tugging them off with a wince of pain and seizing a loose pair of black jogging bottoms which he let sit on his hips instead of his stomach. There was an angry pink scar there now, it wouldn’t tear open but it still ached a bit. _A lot_!  
  
It was then, he realised that Draco still hadn’t continued speaking and he glanced up at Draco’s reflection in the mirror before him. “What is it?” He asked. He had figured that somehow he’d pissed him off by wanting to see the Weasleys when clearly, Draco had wanted him to himself. _Except he doesn’t realise, he got to see his mother and Snape after the whole ordeal. He got to have their support, I didn’t have my parents here to tell me it’d be alright, or to even sit there and grin like proud idiots at my beside._ Harry’s chest tightened at the thought, wondering just what that image might’ve been like, if Lily and James had lived, before shaking the thought clear of his head. He had learnt not to dwell on the things he didn’t have, and besides which, he had the Weasleys, who loved him just as well. _Just that Draco doesn’t like them,_ he thought, _so he can’t see why I might want to see them when I feel shit, or why I might want them to see our daughter…_  
  
He set his jaw, turning to look at Draco properly now. “What is it?” He asked again carefully.  
  
The feeling bubbled in Draco's stomach. Maybe he was just reading into things a bit too much today, but the tone of Harry's voice suggested that now he was annoyed. Draco's lips curved. _What was the point?_ He turned from Harry then and walked towards the door, turning the handle. “Forget about it,” he said in an almost whisper, opening the door and gesturing for Harry to move through it with his free hand. “Go on then. They won't wait all day.”  
  
Harry walked over towards him.  
  
“Well go on!” Draco said more fiercely this time. “I'll wait here for your return.” Draco released the door then and walked to the side of his bed, laying back, his hands folding behind his head in a dismissive display.  
  
Harry considered him a moment, his hand lingering on the door handle before he stopped and crossed the room, coming to a halt beside Draco. The blond glared up at him but Harry didn’t blink. He was too used to Draco by now. He stared at him a little longer, until it looked like Draco might be reaching his peak of patience at being watched and then he crawled onto the bed, sliding between Draco’s legs and laying against him, his head on his chest.  
  
He felt Draco tense under him but he didn’t move.  
  
“I still love you, you prat,” Harry said then, his voice soft and gentle. “You have to realise it’s going to be mental at first, she’s only two days old. But things will settle down after that. It’ll be normal again,” he promised. He inhaled then, drawing breath before he added, “And just because I coddle our daughter doesn’t mean I don’t have time for you, as well. I’ve been sleeping most of the last two days – and I read in that stupid book that the first few days are important to her, I want her to bond with us, that’s all.”  
  
Draco glanced sideways, a flush colouring his cheeks. “I didn't say anything,” he started, but Harry had already finished his sentence with, “you didn't have to.” Draco leant up to meet Harry’s lips, tugging his collar a little to pull him into the kiss. _When did I become so readable_? Draco wondered. His lips seemed to melt under the heat of Harry's. He didn't want to pull away yet. With all the chaos lately, the only thing he wanted to do was bask in this warmth, this cleaning glow that was radiating from Harry. Draco needed him.  
  
“Merlin,” Draco groaned when their lips parted a little. “What’s wrong with me?” He began breathlessly. “Getting jealous over such ridiculous things?” He stroked his hand through Harry's hair carefully, breathing him in. “You better go before I get so attached that I won't let you leave,” Draco said, grinning. “Go on.”  
  
Harry smiled at him and kissed his forehead, hopping back off of him and moving towards the door.  
  
“I love you too,” Draco said, just as he was about to leave.  
  
Harry flushed a little, feeling quite the naïve schoolgirl at that moment. “Come down if you change your mind. I won’t be long,” he promised before leaving the room.  
  
As Eric had promised, the rambunctious Weasley brood were all waiting for him as he stepped into his and Draco’s private lounge. He was pounced upon in turn by each Weasley, twice by Hermione and Mrs Weasley, and when he finally caught his breath, he noticed, with a jolt of shock, that Narcissa Malfoy, of all people, was perched on the nearest armchair, watching them all with Lilium on her lap.  
  
Harry swallowed, realising, with a swell of gratitude, that Narcissa was making the effort to _mingle_ with the family she considered herself above dealing with, perhaps not for him, but at least for Lilium.  
  
“Severus is waiting for me in my suite, I fear a Weasley reunion was too great an ordeal for him,” Narcissa apologised politely, putting the baby in his arms so that he could show the Weasleys himself.  
  
Harry blinked at her, stunned for words briefly. “Thanks,” he said, a sincere smile touching his lips. “I…errr…Lilium is lucky, you’re already a great Grandmother, it’ll make up for the bumbling idiots me and Draco are going to make as parents.” She laughed, but he could tell the Malfoy pride a mile off by now. She liked feeling that she was superior still, she felt more secure in her position. If there was anything he knew now, it was that a Malfoy loathed feeling insecure.  
  
“Oh, Harry!” Hermione cooed as her husband’s overzealous family swept in again, setting a hand on her best friend’s shoulder. “She’s beautiful! So tiny, though, you’ll have to be careful over the next few months…”  
  
Before Harry had even finished rolling his eyes, Ron’s hand landed on his other shoulder, though his was also an act of leverage as well as support, since the rest of his family were nudging in closer to see. Harry felt suffocated, but pleasantly so, if that were possible. It was not unlike the suffocation he felt when Draco squeezed him tightly, or when his husband pressed firmly on the back of his neck to prolong a kiss. It was the kind of smothering that made him realise how important he was to these people, how loved he was.  
  
“Blimey, mate,” Ron gasped, “if she don’t half look like that bloody ferre– I mean, you know,” his cheek went as red as his hair as he realised Narcissa was right next to Harry still. “She looks just like _him_. There’s not an ounce of you at all!”  
  
“Oi!” Harry insisted, light-heartedly, “That’s my nose she’s looking down at you with and my eyes she’s glaring at you with,” he laughed, but he could tell from the look on Ron’s face, his other best friend was incredibly uneasy with the situation still. It was as if, now Lilium was here, he could not deny it anymore, or hope that something would happen to save Harry from this…arrangement which _he_ , Ron still believed wasn’t good enough for him.  
  
Silence fell, despite the throng of people gathered around him and Harry shifted awkwardly, not knowing how to appease Ron, or that disgruntled look on his face as he studied the baby. Instead, he looked to Hermione and Molly Weasley. “Me and Draco, we err… We called her Lilium. Lilium Potter-Malfoy.” He didn’t have to look at any of them to know that they were shocked that Draco had _‘allowed’_ the use of Harry’s previous surname, not when he had insisted so heartily on removing it from Harry at the start...  
  
“Usually I would object to such a thing, but she is both mine and Harry's, so I let it slip. This once,” Draco interjected as he walked in to join them. Ron seemed to be sneering at him, which gave him all the more reason to play up a little. “If I had my way, things would be–”  
  
“Oh, stop winding them up, Draco,” Narcissa interrupted, putting Draco in his place. Ron's gaze shot to her. So _that_ was what he was playing at.  
  
Draco laughed, walking over to a spare armchair and slumping into it. “Well, isn't this cosy?” He began. Harry was already looking at him awkwardly, but Draco couldn't resist. “I did plan on staying upstairs during your visit. But I thought someone would have to be here to protect my daughter…”  
  
“Enough, Malfoy!” Came a female voice, he did not recognise as well. The youngest red head of the family had risen to her feet. “Harry has made so much effort trying to make everyone welcome. He wants for us all to get along. Stop acting like a selfish, sarcastic prick and try to! You don't realise how lucky you are to have a family with him.”  
  
Draco seemed somewhat affronted, but brushed it off easily, his trademark smirk never faltering. “I need a drink,” He grunted, getting to his feet and heading for the cabinet in the corner (the shrine of Harry within having been erased a good few weeks ago now).  
  
But then, an unexpected sound cut through the room. Laughter, Harry was laughing.  
  
“You’ve cracked, mate,” Ron grumbled, and Harry smirked.  
  
“No. You just don’t see, do you? This is Draco’s way of…well…accepting you, to the best if his ability,” he chuckled, realising that perhaps only he and Narcissa were accustomed to Draco’s attitude. “If he was as opposed to you as you thought, he’d have altered the wards to turn you all into chickens the second you crossed the threshold. Considering you think him so evil and conniving, I’m surprised you hadn’t been surprised that he let you in here at all.”  
  
He could see that had stumped Ron and Ginny. Harry desperately tried to ignore the scoff Draco made from across the room and the way he grumbled _not a bad idea_ , under his breath.  
  
“Listen, mate, if Draco really didn’t want you here he wouldn’t let you in,” Harry said finally, turning to push his wriggling (yet quiet) daughter into Hermione’s arms, seeing she might burst if she didn’t get the chance soon. Hermione didn’t need instructions to hold a newborn either, being the most recent to have one. Besides, the glare Draco shot him from across the room silently ordered him to sit down and so he slumped back into the settee, his hand on his sore stomach. Maybe he’d overtaxed himself a little, but he’d be alright if he sat down. He wanted to see them, in any case.  
  
“Shocker,” George piped up, perching on the arm of the settee to look between Harry and the baby, which Molly and Hermione had swarmed in around. “Harry Potter, made to take the weight off his feet with a look,” he laughed, “time was that you’d have to be bound and gagged before we could get you to the hospital wing for a broken arm!”  
  
Harry scowled half-heartedly, realising Draco’s glance hadn’t gone unnoticed. “I’m not a bloody invalid. It’s just a little scar. Not like I haven’t already had enough of those. It just keeps the Missus quiet,” he tilted his head back to Draco teasingly, “if I laze about a bit.”  
  
“Having your stomach cut open, your womb ripped out along with a baby does not leave _a little scar_ ,” Mrs Weasley scolded him, and Harry winced. “Draco does well to tell you to sit down. You never have been able to consider your own well-being. I, for one, am glad that there is someone to take care of you now that you’ll listen to.”  
  
Harry flushed, just _knowing_ Draco was going to be looking triumphant over there by the bloody liquor cabinet…  
  
And he was.  
  
That smug grin was now bigger than ever. Draco returned to his armchair and sat down with his glass of firewhisky. “Harry is right; I assure you if I didn't want you here then you wouldn't be here. Don't take everything I say seriously,” he finished. This was certainly a side of Draco none of them had seen, a more amicable side, trying to make civility if nothing else. “I'm grateful Harry is so lucky in his friends, to have so many that care about him,” he said simply, sipping his drink. He decided not to elaborate and leave it as that. He had opened himself enough for them to see. And if they couldn't tell he loved Harry by now, they were just bloody blind.  
  
“Well, if it makes you feel better, mate, I get your sense of humour!” George chuckled, making the first move in accepting Draco’s efforts. Draco nodded, acknowledging him, before turning to Harry. “So, my darling husband,” Draco began. that amused smirk returning. “Why don't you tell everyone why we choose the name Lilium?” Harry looked shocked. That was quite personal, at least he thought so. Of course, he thought that they would all realise why. Hermione might have at least, but most of them seemed oblivious.  
  
“Yes, it's a very pretty name, Harry. So…so _you_ choose it?” Mr Weasley asked.  
  
Harry flushed, but Draco answered for him.  
  
“I had already thought of another name, but after he gave me the reason behind his choice, there was simply no other option,” Draco admitted.  
  
“It means the flower, innocence, purity, beauty, doesn’t it?” Hermione asked, having allowed Mrs Weasley to hold the child in question now, not really surprised to see Draco giving Harry some personal space in front of them all. He was likely over thinking all of his actions right now, having experienced it, she knew the first few weeks after the birth were a sensitive time…  
  
“It’s also the botanical name for Lily, isn’t it?” She added and Harry nodded, trying to find anything else in the room to occupy his gaze. Mr Weasley was off in the corner trying a civilised conversation with Narcissa, that was an interesting feat in itself, but Arthur always had been the peacemaker of the family.  
  
There was a sudden weight on the settee beside him then and Harry looked round to see an awkward looking Ron sitting beside him, struggling with his words it seemed. “If he can grow up then Hermione tells me I should to,” his best friend said at last, his eyes finally meeting Harry’s. “I’ve been an arse these last few months but it’s only ‘cause I worry, yeah?”  
  
Harry nodded, not knowing where this was going. But Ron always came round in the end, he shouldn’t be surprised, should he?  
  
“Look it started shit, we can’t deny that,” Ron pressed on, ignoring his mother’s scolding of his swearing. “But like…err…” He winced at his own failure at words. “Right, well he must bloody well love you if he sat there rubbing your ruddy feet and fetching you tea when you looked like a beached whale!” Ron declared, frustrated with the situation. He never had been good under pressure.  
  
“And he’s protective of you, which is…alright it’s bloody weird, but it’s nice too. I don’t like the thought of you being alone. And he looks like he is taking good care of you, even now when you’re all like…” He gestured to Harry with a confused frown, “You know, vulnerable and everything. He looks after you even when there’s nothing in it for him, so I s’pose… It’s alright, I suppose. With all of us.” Ron’s gaze wandered to Ginny, who had sat away from the rest of them quietly. “Isn’t it?”  
  
Ginny sneered at her brother. She had thought he was on her side! He seemed like the only one to understand how wrong this was. As soon as they all accepted it, that was it. Harry was really gone and under the Malfoy’s control, forever. Playing the delicate, frail housewife to a death eater! “No!” She exclaimed, glowering at him. “I can't accept it!”  
  
“Ginny, please,” Mrs Weasley began.  
  
“No, Mum, I don't care if it makes me seem selfish or childish, I won't try and interfere or stop you, Harry, but you’ve known from the start how I've felt. And even now, if Ron accepts it, I just can't, because if I do… It's like…it's like letting you go. I…I can't explain it, but I don't care if you all think I’m being difficult. I won't try and tell you you’re wrong anymore, but I will never support it. I just can't! If it falls apart you need someone to be…I…” Ginny seemed to be making sense only to herself through her distress.  
  
“Ginny, you’re not making sense,” Hermione tried kindly.  
  
“Come on, Ginny,” Ron said, ushering her to sit down.  
  
“Even if they don't understand you, I do,” Draco said, to everyone's surprise. All eyes shot to him as he turned to Ginny. “From Ginny's point of view, she feels that if she finally gives me and Harry her blessing, that it’s like handing him over to me with no way back. You may think that she is selfish, because she isn't putting Harry's wants first, like the rest of you are. It may seem ridiculous, but I know exactly what she is saying. As soon as she accepts it, it's like there is no way back for Harry, should he change his mind. She has never truly accepted me or this house or what we share, why should she suddenly change her mind now?”  
  
Ginny looked shocked. They all did.  
  
“If she wants to hold on to the hope that Harry will see he is better than me one day, by all means, she can continue to do so. We’ve been living together happily as a family for a good few months now, her acceptance may please Harry but his happiness isn’t dependant on it.” Draco looked directly at Ginny then. “I'm not lying when I say he's happier than he has ever been, if you’re his friend, you should see that and trust his judgement.”  
  
Harry stared wide-eyed at his husband. Even _he_ felt infuriated by Ginny’s words, he had expected Draco to explode but what he had done was…  
  
 _He bothered to see her,_ he thought, studying his husband thoughtfully, a swell of gratitude in his chest. _He bothered to understand and relate to her and to speak on her behalf. He didn’t have to._ He had the sudden urge to touch him somehow, to hold his hand or _something,_ anything, but Draco, regrettably was in the chair across the room. His husband spoke from experience, because he’d had to sit and watch Harry from afar for years…  
  
His mouth moved soundlessly for a few moments, and then…  
  
“I’m not going to change my mind, Ginny,” Harry said carefully. “Draco offered me as close to a way out as he could and I said no. And you may forever doubt that I only did it for Lilium, or the contract or _whatever_ , but this is my decision. I’m here to stay. I’m grateful you want to save me, but there’s nothing to save me from.”  
  
He thought then, though. Did Draco have any doubts? Would he always wonder, forever doubt that Harry made the decision because he loved him? His brow knotted with a frown at the thought. Was there a way he could make Draco realise that? Was Draco satisfied with everything now? Happy? He couldn’t bear it if he wasn’t.  
  
Realising he was staring then, he dropped his gaze to his lap where his fingers were fiddling with the hem of his jumper. He swore he _saw_ the glow of the illumiglass through the material, shining with his anxiousness.  
  
Ginny sat back down, her voice weary when she next spoke. “I know,” she said. “But I just can't accept that. I told you, I won't tell you that you’re wrong anymore, but you have to also know I can't accept it either.” She turned from Draco's gaze, hating that the cause of her frustrations, of Harry’s prior suffering had been the one to understand her best of all. Draco just smiled thoughtfully. What else could he do? Harry looked as though he was about to shout but catching Draco's eyes, he stopped himself, just barely.  
  
“I understand,” Draco said carefully. He was quite envious of her in some ways. How she refused to give up on the person she loved. Draco had almost given in on so many occasions. In fact, he had done exactly that at the start. He had been blinded, he had seen Harry’s place in his life as temporary and therefore a liability to his already weak heart. He had not allowed himself to love Harry the way he wanted, the way he _deserved_ at first. Ginny Weasley was so strong in comparison to him, would have no doubt deserved the gift of Harry’s hand more than he did.  
  
 _You would have made him an excellent wife,_ Draco thought, deciding to leave that as a passing thought only. _The Harry I know and love needs someone like me to satisfy his hero complex as well as his recklessness, his lack of self-preservation and self-esteem,_ Draco thought, catching the glow of the illumiglass around Harry’s neck with confusion. He wondered what exactly was going through Harry's head to make it glow so brightly.  
  
Harry supposed that even Ginny’s words attributed to the Weasley-Malfoy half-hearted truce. Funny, how one person (namely _him_ ) could bring a century-long feud between two vastly different pureblood families to an end. He wasn’t under any delusions. Ron and Ginny in particular would never like Draco, but Mr and Mrs Weasley seemed to like him enough for all of them and if even Narcissa and Draco could try for politeness, he was sure that life would be a lot easier from now on. He was glad that a visit to the Burrow wouldn’t end in disaster every time.  
  
Smiling thoughtfully, Harry let their words wash over him, enjoying his company of bustling red-heads and Hermione, before he had decided he’d had quite enough adventure for one day. He hugged his family goodbye, promising to bring Lilium by when he was more able, and allowing Mrs Weasley to invite herself back for a solitary visit at a later date.  
  
When they were all gone, Harry handed a now dozing Lilium to Narcissa and smiled softly. Draco and he were alone again, at last, when Narcissa left to rejoin Snape in her quarters with her granddaughter.  
  
No sooner had the door closed, Harry struggled out of his trousers, careless that he was left standing there in a jumper and his briefs, just relieved to have the pressure off his belly. Harry gave his husband a meaningful look, before dragging the plush footstool over to rest in between Draco’s legs, where he slumped exhaustedly, leaning back onto Draco’s chest. He stared up at the ceiling, watching the firelight play with the shadows on the ceiling and it was not a heartbeat before he felt warm arms wrapped around him. He closed his eyes, inhaling blissfully.  
  
“Draco?” He asked, hearing a soft, contented _‘hmmm?’_ in answer. “When I asked to stay… You know it wasn’t for Lilium, don’t you? Not only her, I mean.”  
  
“It never really…I never questioned why you were staying because at that point in time, I didn’t care for _why_. I mean… I care, I just suppose that if you want to stay for whatever reason that’s good enough for me. Even if you didn't want to stay here for me, I was fine with that too, because I was still able to be with you, and you were willing and at least _content_ here. So I…I _do_ want you to stay for deeper reasons, for me, who wouldn't? But I’m not going to push for it.”  
  
Draco didn't think he had made any sense, but he knew Harry understood what he had meant. Harry knew him better than anyone. He smiled at that thought, trailing the backs of his fingers along the back of Harry’s neck. “I know you care about me, Harry, you wouldn’t be sitting here otherwise. I don't expect you to prove anything to me. After all, I only really stepped up to the mark when Lilium was conceived. You must have thought my sudden change was peculiar, it must have felt like I didn't want you either at that time. But we both know that's not the case…so…”  
  
Harry considered him a moment, pondering that smile, that voice and just how far they’d come – how far _Draco_ in particular had come. Harry turned slightly in his arms then, his eyes flickering up to test the look in Draco’s briefly before he slid the rest of the way to press their lips together in a fleeting kiss. “I stayed because of you. Because I was… I was falling for you, even if I was too stupid to realise it for what it was at the time,” Harry explained, flushing at his inarticulateness. He smirked then, laying back against him and closing his eyes tiredly.  
  
“You know,” he said suddenly, Draco’s fingers caressing the back of his neck gently still. “We never got a honeymoon. I think you owe me one once things settle down a bit…” He trailed off thoughtfully, contemplating all the places the Dursleys had visited without him when he was younger, all the places Dudley made sure to tell him were so amazing that he’d never be able to go. He tipped his head back then, staring up into Draco’s face. “Disneyland!” He laughed, watching Draco’s face wrinkle with distaste. Harry smirked; his husband’s expression told him that he’d heard of the muggle creation and he obviously thought there were better places.  
  
“What is wrong with you?” Draco joked, then sighed. “If you really want to go then I'll take you.” His glance darted sideways then and a flush filled his cheeks. “I'm…I'm happy you want to be here because you want to be with me. Thank you for thinking of me…and telling me so,” Draco said, stumbling over his words. His eyes returned to Harry’s face then, more sharp, more fulfilled than ever. His fingers cupped the back of Harry's neck and pulled him up against his lips. Draco's breathing became heavy and the fingers of his free hand were tracing ever contour of Harry’s face. Caressing him. Needing him.  
  
With the force of his lips, he pried Harry's apart, ravaging the insides of his mouth with his hungry tongue. He had longed to kiss him this way for days now. It seemed like an age when they last kissed this way, with all the chaos that had surrounded them. His hands pressed down Harry's shoulder and over his back, pushing their bodies as close together as physically possible. The blond’s arms wrapped around him, embracing him tightly as they kissed him, as if this were their last few moments together.  
  
This was everything he had ever dared to dream of having. This was what happiness felt like. So why was he on the brink of tears? When the kiss broke, their foreheads pressed together, their eyes closed and breathing heavy.  
  
“I love you, Harry.”  
  
Harry’s lashes fluttered and he blinked hard to try and shove back the emotion brewing within. “Love you too,” he murmured sincerely, his flush running all the way from his hairline to his throat. But it was the good kind. His fingers slid up, sifting through those golden locks at the base of Draco’s neck and Harry tugged him down, inhaling his scent, his mouth brushing his husband’s gently. His breath escaped him in a large huff then and he smiled sheepishly up at Draco.  
  
“Wish I could…make love to you,” he stuttered huskily, a little embarrassed at the words. He dipped his head into Draco’s chest awkwardly. “O’Dempsy says not for at least a month though, even with all the magic and potions she and Snape shove down my throat. _‘Nothing remotely adventurous, nothing beyond vigorous kissing,’_ I believe were her exact words…” He peered up at Draco through his fringe then, as if to gauge his reaction to the words.  
  
They’d always had a very… _zesty,_ vigorous sex life. Even when he’d been carrying Lilium they’d had that insatiable hunger. To Harry’s delight as well as Draco’s. That was just the way they liked it. But despite his newly revealed feelings, Harry could not help but feel a little concerned for Draco’s reaction to Harry’s… _incapacity_ for their usual activities, as much as they _both_ wanted to resume them.  
  
“There are more important things than sex, Harry,” Draco assured him. “And you know, if I really need it I’ll go toss one out in the shower, my hand has never failed me before.” There was that arrogance shining through, the same arrogance that Harry had come to love along with the rest of his faults. There was so much more to Draco than Harry had originally expected. So much more. “I just want to lay here with you,” Draco admitted, his cheeks burning. “Can we…?”  
  
Harry grinned devilishly, pushing on Draco’s shoulders so that the blond rolled over onto his back, leaving Harry on top. He leant into him, laying a slow, soft kiss on his lips, before drawing back to meet his eyes. “Who can turn down a request like that?” He murmured, elated by Draco’s reassurance. Things might be, _could_ be alright now, he could see it. Once the threat of Lucius was gone, they would be safe and happy, Draco would be able to enjoy and live his life without that dark cloud hanging over his head.  
  
Laying another kiss on the curve of Draco’s jaw, Harry heard the blond sigh softly and he smiled against his flesh, his hands coming up to open Draco’s shirt so that they could be skin to skin – just because Harry couldn’t have vigorous sex didn’t mean they has to abide by the boundaries of clothing. But as his hands slid over Draco’s pale chest, he felt the blond tense and he drew back, frowning in confusion. Looking down at where his hands lay, he saw for the first time, the angry, red scars left by Lucius from the day Lilium was born. He winced, shuffling back.  
  
“Sorry, did I hurt you?” He asked, but Draco merely shook his head, turning his head to the side evasively. Harry’s frown deepened. “So…if I didn’t hurt you, what’s the matter?” He asked.  
  
“It's ugly,” Draco replied hoarsely, bringing his hands to his chest. “You don't need to look at it.” Draco had always taken pride in his appearance. It was an odd concept for him to be self-conscious about his body. But Harry's hands came back up the moment he tried to do up his buttons, knocking his own hands away and pinning them either side of his hips. Draco looked away from him. They were nasty. The scars, they tore right through him, fiery, dark and red, still clean and fresh. He flinched as he looked down at them.  
  
“Don't look at me,” Draco insisted, his voice devoid of emotion. He felt torn now. His appearance was the one thing he had to offer, if that beauty was spoiled, what else was there? He winced, but did not move his hands to stop Harry when his husband continued unbuttoning his shirt.  
  
“Do you think all my scars are disgusting?” Harry demanded, pushing the folds of Draco’s shirt back so that he could see his naked torso unhindered. Draco’s chest was littered with thick, angry red scars that would pale a little over time Harry knew and there were a few thin ones across his belly as well. Harry stared at them and then Draco, his expression hard. “You know, someone once told me you haven’t truly lived until you have a few scars to share,” Harry mused, leaning down as he spoke so that his words drifted over Draco’s scars, one by one, like a near-kiss to each hastily healed wound.  
  
“You’re beautiful,” Harry said huskily, his eyes gleaming, glancing up every now and then to try and catch Draco’s eyes. “These ones mean you suffered facing your fears.” He came to paler, thinner scars then and a lump rose in his throat. “And these ones…these are the ones I gave you. Back in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom,” he said, tracing the iridescent marks with his fingertips hesitantly, before flicking his tongue out over the one that ran through Draco’s right nipple. They were so pale you could only see them up close, unlike the fresh, crimson stripes Lucius had gifted him with.  
  
Seeing his husband’s chin raised even more obstinately, Harry gave a small sigh and rolled back off Draco, lying back on the footstool as he pulled his shirt up to reveal the furious, red line across his own midsection. “This scar came from our daughter,” he said, it was still sore, tender but it was healing nicely (and faster than it would’ve done without magic). “You don’t think any less of me, or want me any less because of it, do you? It’s more obvious than yours.” There were a few rogue stretch marks around his hips as well, and Draco had never so much as mentioned them before, it astonished Harry to think that the blond wouldn’t realise Harry felt that exact same way about him.  
  
Draco smiled thoughtfully. _Using my own tactics against me,_ he thought. “I suppose not… Just…my appearance is all that I've ever had,” he admitted. “I haven't ever felt like I had any skills or talents, so I took pride in the one thing I _did_ have and that was myself.” Even with his words, he sat up a little straighter. “But then, I have you now don't I? And Lilium, and neither of you are going away?” His words were almost a question, as if he needed the reassurance. “I can take pride in being a good husband and father and even a good son. So perhaps…it's alright for me to have a few scars…”  
  
“You know, if I wanted to be married to a Ken doll I’m certain I could find one,” Harry mused, laughing as he saw Draco’s brow furrow with confusion. “Muggle toy, the non-sexual kind,” Harry explained, remembering the cringe-worthy adverts from the television as he’d passed through the lounge doing chores at Privet Drive. He rolled cautiously onto his side then, pressing himself into Draco’s chest, part in invitation for an embrace and part in an attempt to show him how little the scars bothered him. He sighed as Draco’s heart thudded softly against his ear.  
  
“I love you, you pillock, flaws and all. The same as you love me. Your scars only make you more… _perfect_ to me because they’re a testament to how far you’ve come, how much you’ve changed – and all for me, and for Lilium. Don’t ever think a few silly marks are going to make me think any different.”  
  
He wondered then, if there was anything he could do, anything he could get for Draco that would be physical proof of the truth in his words. Draco believed him, he was certain, but Harry had so many tangible objects to prove Draco’s affections for him, wouldn’t it only be fair for Draco to have the same? Harry’s eyes wandered down a little, just seeing the dull glow of the illumiglass and the faint glimmer of his wedding ring. And his scar, even that was proof, he supposed. _But I don’t know that there’s anything I can give Draco…_  
  
“Alright,” Draco said, with no desire for argument, trusting Harry’s words and judgement. Since when had he become so passive? He turned his head into the cushioned headrest, pulling his husband tightly against him. “I love you,” he said, distantly. It felt so nice to be able to say that so casually, without worrying, without second-thinking himself or worrying that Harry would never return his feelings. He felt complete, for the first time in his life. Regardless of the problems ahead, he truly and honestly believed that he had found comfort and peace.  
  
His eyes closed. He drifted and for the first time in what felt like forever, he was swept into a dream so warm and pleasant he was sure he’d never be troubled again when he woke.  
  
* * *  
  
The fire flickered ominously in the hearth of the dark room. This house, it was another forgotten heirloom to the Black name that had been left to fall into disrepair. Fortunately, the Potter boy had no idea what to do with this shack and so it had been a perfect place to lie low and lick his wounds. _Heal them_ , he thought, rolling the wine glass in his hand, watching the crimson liquid rock ominously in the firelight. _Heal them for my final assault._  
  
Just then, the door opened with a screech. It was rotten and falling apart just like the bland stonework of the room, but with the shadows it was easy to fancy himself in his proper place – in his study drinking vintage cabernet instead of sipping at cheap, age-old stores that had been left behind in this shack. He fingered the silver snake-head of his cane distractedly as his accomplice entered the room, coming to stand beside his chair. Lucius swore the subordinate shuddered at the way the fire caught the jewelled eyes of the decorative serpent.  
  
Lucius cleared his throat then and took another sip at the repulsive, cheap beverage, imagining it was one of the finer stores he’d been privileged to taste before now. “Come out with it, what have you got to tell me?” Lucius demanded.  
  
A pause. A sharp inhale and then…  
  
“Freya is gone,” the man said slowly, pausing again, as if gauging Lucius’s reaction. Lucius didn’t say anything. She was a valuable servant but a fickle girl; he would’ve had to get rid of her in the end. She was a liability. Still, she could’ve been helpful in his next movement.  
  
“Severus Snape took her out this evening, when she got too close to the borders of the manor,” the subordinate continued. “He killed her, he made her…disappear, Sir. And I fear he may suspect me after I vanished at the gathering the other–”  
  
“Do not tell me you are turning into a bit of a coward, Jeremy Dewglas?” Lucius sneered, still not looking up at him. “I enlisted you to aid me, and for handsome reward, I might remind you.”  
  
Jeremy swallowed, hard. “I have brought what you asked for,” he said, as if to redeem himself (and ensure his life). He presented the thick vial, which Lucius snatched greedily. “The blood that Freya stole from Potter that day at St. Mungo’s, why did she not give it to you immediately, Sir?”  
  
Lucius tucked the blood into his pocket thoughtfully. “I have not had contact with her since that blasted day. Severus must’ve been hunting her and so she could not make contact. At least I have the brat’s blood. Freya, that whore was not completely worthless.” Beside him, Jeremy flinched. Finally, Lucius inclined his head to look up at the man, his silver eyes fiery and frightening in the dim light. “You wish to speak, Mr Dewglas? Don’t tell me you are as spineless as to have second thoughts? You wanted wealth and power and reputation, I will obtain you all these things once the Potter boy and the others are gone. You can pull Draco free of the wreckage, you’ll be a hero, Mr Dewglas, every wizard and witch and _mudblood_ on the continent will know your name…”  
  
Jeremy winced at that. And Lucius, as quick as he was, saw it, even in the dim light.  
  
“Speak, boy,” he hissed.  
  
Jeremy stiffened at that, straightening despite his urge to cower. He had power within the ministry in some places, yes, but as a wizard, he was average at best, without the talent for cruelty that Lucius Malfoy possessed. He had no doubt that this man could erase him from the world without any effort at all. “With all due respects, Sir, it wasn’t fame I sought as a reward for my… _assistance_ ,” he said carefully. Lucius gave a small sound in surprise. Evidently, since fame and power was what Lucius himself craved, he believed everyone guilty of the desire. Jeremy, however, slowed his erratic breathing, wishing his heart would stop hammering in his chest. “I wanted the money, Sir, for my father, my family. Despite our place in the ministry, we’ve been in debt since the war, slowly losing our way of life and I only wished to free them of such…”  
  
Lucius waved a hand, signalling him to be silent. Jeremy’s mouth closed immediately. This was a dangerous game he played, whatever the reason he had initially got involved. Lucius Malfoy was a dangerous man he could not afford to cross. Even with _his_ grand selection of ministry connections.  
  
“I have no time for turncoats, at least not when they may turn on me. So tell me, Mr Dewglas, are you in, or out?” Lucius demanded dangerously.  
  
Jeremy’s thoughts strayed to the vial of Potter’s blood resting in the man’s pocket and he inhaled sharply. All of the dark and twisted things Lucius Malfoy was capable of… Jeremy wasn’t sure he knew the answer to Lucius’s question and so he remained silent in the ominous dimness. When he had agreed to assist the man he had not known that he would end up with his life, with his family’s life under threat by this man. Could he help him to kill so many innocents? Could he help him to murder Harry Potter, his innocent daughter, Mrs Malfoy, Severus Snape…could he take so many lives to save his own and his family’s? He didn’t see as he had much of a choice…  
  
  
 _~To Be Continued..._

  


	27. Fire and Sacrifice

[Twenty-Seven]  
 **Fire and Sacrifice**  
 

  
  
  
The air was chilly and fresh on Harry’s cheeks; he could not help the smile that crossed his face as he breathed it in. Diagon Alley was as busy as ever and heads turned as he stuck close to Draco’s side, lest he lose him in the crowds. Lilium was sat on Draco’s hip, staring around at the strange new people in awe. It occurred to Harry then, as Draco sent a glare to a man’s whose gaze lingered too long on them, that not only was this the first time Lilium was seeing the outside world, it was the first time he and Draco had been outside in public together.  
  
Blushing slightly, he wondered what people thought as they made their way through the sunshine. He knew this would be all over the papers tomorrow, of course, even if all they did today was give Lilium a lick of ice-cream. Still, it’d be nice to be in the paper for something nice instead of vicious rumour, even if Draco’s position in owning the Daily Prophet eradicated most of that slander nowadays. He leant into Draco’s ear then, smiling as he whispered, “They’re looking at me as if you’ve been keeping me in a dungeon for the last few months, imagine the scandal if they knew we actually do have a dungeon?” He breathed. It was nice to be outside, to be seen together, to be seen as a normal couple – a normal family. And by the smug look on Draco’s face, he’d say Draco liked it too. A little too much.  
  
“You like all this celebrity awe, don’t you?” He laughed, watching as Lilium craned her neck to get a good look at the shop window of the Magical Menagerie, hypnotised by the great tawny owl in the window.  
  
“You think?” Draco asked, craning his neck over to glance at his beautiful daughter and her adorable state of wonder. “Well maybe a little, it's not like me to get attention in this light. You were _always_ the one getting the attention.” A hint of childish jealousy escaped with that phrase, even if he knew well enough that Harry hated all the attention. “I feel…content,” He said slowly, “Scared, but content. I have the most beautiful family in the world, and my…my father…”  
  
No matter what, they couldn't really be a real family until he was out the picture, they could not be happy with shadows looming behind them, making them glance over their shoulders with every tentative step forward. Draco had been pushing it out of his mind long enough. The last few weeks with Lilium and Harry had only made him realise how far he would go to keep them. “If I wasn't sure before I am now. I want to assist Severus if I can. He is risking his life and freedom to protect us, when really…that’s my job. I've fled from this long enough, Harry.” Draco sat down on a nearby bench then, rubbing his temples with his free hand. “But I can't run anymore. These _thoughts_ , the knowledge of what he might do, they plague me every day. They spoil every moment I share with you. I never thought I’d say this, but I have to kill him or help Severus. I have to do _something_ , I have to protect you both, if anything happens, I'll…” He went silent then, choking on his words. He didn't know what he would do, and he didn't want to think about it.  
  
Harry watched his husband for a moment, watched as Lilium leant closer into Draco’s chest, sucking on her fist as she busied herself with the platinum blond strands hanging over Draco’s shoulder. Harry grinned as Draco looked at her, the hair-tug disrupting his thoughts. Their daughter had been a great distraction from their problems over the last few weeks.  
  
“It’ll be alright,” Harry assured Draco, shifting closer on the bench. “You can’t go chasing him down. It’s too dangerous and besides, he’ll come to us, he’s not finished yet, you know he hasn’t.” Harry thought for a moment, staring around at the passing people, at the children nagging their parents for a treat from the Weasley joke shop, or a new quill or an owl. _That’s going to be me, Draco and Lilium in a few years,_ he thought, turning back to see Draco tugging Lilium’s fist out of her mouth. The blond mumbled something about it being improper, before stuffing a dummy in her mouth, which she sucked, hard. He had a suspicion Draco would find it hardest to let her go off to Hogwarts when the time came, he was already so over protective of _both_ of them.  
  
“Nothing is going to happen to either of us, I won’t let it,” Harry grinned then, leaning in to allow his breath to dust Draco’s ear. “You need us too badly; I couldn’t afford to let it happen.”  
  
“Just sitting around waiting for something to happen, it's no way to live. We should be celebrating everything we have, not sitting everything out, afraid, wondering about ‘if’ and ‘what’… _worrying_. I just feel anxious all the time,” He admitted. “The thought of anything happening to either of you, it’s far worse than anything I’ve ever endured. The things _He_ did to me…they don’t even compare. This feels like it's ripping right through me…it just…”  
  
Harry smiled comfortingly as Draco lost his voice. He knew how Draco felt. He had constantly felt that fear, that apprehension all the time with Voldemort haunting his teen years. So many times he had near lost himself to fear, scared for his friends and family but unable to go to anyone with his fears.  
  
Draco felt a hand on his shoulder then, rubbing it reassuringly. He smiled at Harry's comfort. “Sorry,” Draco started. “I'm sure you feel just the same as I do.”  
  
“We’re in this together. It is no way to live, with this over our heads. But it’ll be over soon, I just know it,” Harry promised, looking around at the passing witches and wizards once more. “And we’ll be able to come here whenever we want, be able to leave the house without worrying about what might happen. You’ll be able to leave me and Lilium for work without sending Eric to check on us both all the time.” He grinned as his overprotective lover blushed and rested his forehead against Draco’s. “Besides, you owe me and Lily a trip to Disneyland,” he mused.  
  
Draco smiled. “You’re such a dork.” _That’s why I love you_ , his mind added. “You’re right, and I do plan to take you to _Disneyland_.” Not that he knew much about this muggle attraction, what with growing up in a pureblood family intolerant of anything less. But he had heard about it being a hugely popular muggle fantasyland. “Come on, I planned to cook for you and the family tonight,” Draco said, standing and steering himself and Harry back in the direction of the Leaky Cauldron.  
  
Draco had been preparing a huge feast for his husband, mother and Severus for the last few days, it had been the first time in a while he had wanted to cook himself, without help from the elves except some careful correction. A gift from him to show them how much they meant to him, like Harry had done for him months ago, when he was still pregnant.  
  
As they stumbled out of the floo a few moments later, Harry plucked Lilium out of Draco’s arms and set her down in the basinet they’d moved into their lounge area, just to get both her and Harry out of the bedroom once and a while. “I’m so pampered,” Harry laughed softly, knowing how much effort Draco had put into it. “Can’t wait to taste it.” The second Lilium was safely in her bed; however, Draco seized his shoulder, whirling him to face him. Harry’s lips had only the chance to open (as if in speech) before Draco’s crushed his brutally. Harry grinned against the kiss, groaning breathlessly into him as he stumbled back a few feet, collapsing into the settee. He laughed as the kiss was broken by their clumsiness.  
  
“Don’t start that,” he panted, “I’ve got Hermione and Hugo coming over, you can’t distract me. It’s barely funny when Hermione and Ron catch you tussling with me, I don’t want to scar poor Hugo as well.”  
  
“Hmmn, but it's been a while,” Draco complained, moving into him. He nipped at Harry's earlobe with his teeth, rolling his tongue up it to taunt the sensitive flesh. His hands crept under that shirt, caresses the flesh beneath with slow tickles. “I want to touch you.” The look on his face was that of a small child who had had their toy taken away, it was almost a pout. “I know I said I could deal with my hand, but it's not as good as touching you.”  
  
A flush crossed his nose then, one that reflected on Harry’s features.  
  
With a sigh of frustration, he withdrew his hand from under Harry's shirt, rolling off him. “Fine,” He said, without any real petulance to his voice. He wasn't really angry or anything, just needy, in the ‘Draco way’ of being needy, that is.  
  
Harry’s eyes flashed with a hazy film of lust as he sat up at Draco’s abrupt withdrawal and he had to blink a few times to clear his head. “Draco!” He called as his husband headed for the door. “Draco, wait!” Harry flew to his feet, shoving roughly at Draco’s shoulder and pinning him to the door, his hand pressing hard at Draco’s wrist, where it had been previously reaching for the door handle.  
  
Their breath mingled as Harry leaned in close, their noses barely touching. Harry stared into those eyes for a moment and then leant in, his tongue sweeping across Draco’s lips in a swift kiss that was meant as a promise. “It’s been a while,” Harry breathed, still dishevelled and he smoothed a longer kiss to Draco’s mouth then. “I miss it too. I just…I have something…something _special_ planned for this weekend.” He watched Draco’s eyes shimmer then in curiosity and smiled devilishly at him, tightening his grip on Draco’s wrist as if to show him he wouldn’t have to wait much longer.  
  
“A few days, think you can wait until then?” He teased.  
  
Draco groaned. “Hmm, the thrill of the hunt is the stalking of the prey, the anticipation,” his words dusted over Harry’s flesh and he watched his husband squirm. “In other words, I can wait… _I think_.” He seized Harry’s head again, forcing their lips back together. He had missed this so much! “Hmmn, bloody hell, Harry Malfoy, I want you…so badly. You’re so cruel, making me wait.” He grinned, a flare of playful seductiveness twinkling in his eyes when the loud ringing that announced someone at the floo echoed through the room. “That’s your Granger-Weasley friend,” Draco said, moving out the way so Harry could move towards the lounge door.  
  
“I'll go make us some drinks,” Draco said, walking to the kitchen.  
  
Harry grinned, keeping his eyes locked with Draco’s as long as possible before he pulled the door open.  
  
“Hello!” Hermione chimed brightly as she stepped into their suite, a babbling baby Hugo in her arms. “Draco’s mother let me in the main floo,” she explained, letting Hugo down to crawl across the floor when he asked to. She gave Harry’s mussed up hair a knowing look before taking a seat near Lilium’s basinet. “Oh, my! Harry, she’s gotten big in the last few weeks!”  
  
“Should do too,” Harry agreed, plucking her out of her basket and sitting her on Hermione’s lap. “She eats like there’s no tomorrow. Draco has a sweet-tooth though, so she probably gets it off of him.” He frowned as Hermione’s eyes flashed up to him then, and then to the door she must’ve known Draco had just vanished through. “What’s the matter?” He asked.  
  
She smiled. “Nothing, it’s just that…I never thought it’d end up like this. You and Draco, you talk and act like a normal family. It’s…it’s an unexpected blessing is all, Harry, we’re all very happy for you back at the Burrow.”  
  
“Mrs Weasley says something similar every time she visits, she’s been over a few times to give us bits, homemade cures to every possible consequence to male pregnancy I may have.”  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. “I remember it well,” she groaned, looking to the door again. “And she says that Draco’s very good with Lilium to?”  
  
Harry just nodded, watching Lilium’s eyes widen with wonder as Hugo stood up on his wobbly, chubby legs to show her the toy snitch he’d brought with him. It made sounds as it zinged to-and-fro between them, slower than a normal snitch but still too quick for Lilium to catch it each time she reached for it. She wasn’t quite old enough to have worked out her hand-eye co-ordination yet.  
  
“He’s better with her than I am sometimes,” Harry chuckled thoughtfully. “Although I’m glad we’re both shaping up to be alright parents without having to talk _baby gurgles_ all the time.” He winced, how humiliating it was when people did that, although the elf and the Weasleys of course all did it, he didn’t think he and Draco were those types of people…  
  
“So, have you decided on names?” Hermione chirped up, drawing him back from his daze.  
  
“Names?”  
  
“Who’s going to be ‘Daddy’ and who’s going to be ‘Mummy’?” Hermione laughed, “She can’t call you both Daddy, now can she?”  
  
Harry scowled at her, just as Draco returned with drinks and a bottle for Lilium.  
  
“Oh, isn't that obvious? Harry is the mum,” Draco said, blankly and openly, startling a giggle from Hermione.  
  
“I thought as much,” she chuckled. The look on Harry's expression was something beyond offended.  
  
“Don't look like that, you already knew that was the deal when you got pregnant,” Draco said easily. “Not to mention you’re the natural bottom.” Hermione purposefully coughed then.  
  
“Come now, not in front of the children!” She insisted.  
  
Draco leant over and passed them both their drinks.  
  
“Are you healing well, Harry?” Hermione asked. Harry smiled. He had been healing surprisingly well. He felt almost as good as new, actually.  
  
“He surpasses the professionals’ expectations in everything, even healing,” Draco smirked, sipping his drink.  
  
“Yes,” Harry said meaningfully, “ _Everything_ ,” he looked at his husband as he said that, before looking back to Hermione. “O’Dempsy gave me the all-clear a few days ago. Me and Lilium are perfectly healthy and fine. Want to see my scar?”  
  
Hermione pursed her lips. “Things never change, do they? Boys are always fascinated by blood and gore.” Despite her words, she looked intently as Harry rolled his shirt up off his stomach to show her the completely healed, thin scar. It wouldn’t have been visible except that the line of Harry’s skin above it was a little more raised than below. “It looks good. In time, you know it’ll disappear almost completely with magic,” she explained.  
  
“Yeah, that’s what O’Dempsy said,” Harry agreed, letting his shirt fall back into place with a shrug. “Don’t really care. We’re both healthy, that’s what matters.”  
  
Hermione nodded, all their attention falling back on Hugo and Lilium as the toy snitch zipped around their heads, Lilium making a gurgling sound, as if she were trying to laugh. “She’s so good tempered!” Hermione exclaimed, fascinated. Hugo was a little terror for the first few weeks! Does she sleep through the night?”  
  
Harry pulled a face. “Not quite, she doesn’t like sleeping in her basinet, keeps wanting to get in bed with us but…well; now we’ve had the all clear we wanted to make sure we get some time to ourselves too. You know…?”  
  
“Some _adult_ time?” Hermione mused, raising a brow at them. Harry flushed. “I can’t imagine how your bottom has been coping without all the attention,” she mumbled, making Draco chuckle softly. Harry’s cheeks were aflame.  
  
“Merlin’s balls,” he swore, “the pair of you have teamed up in humiliating me. I’ll never be safe.”  
  
Draco laughed. “Hmmn, the way I like it,” he said with a purr, leaning across to place a kiss on his husband’s cheek. Hermione blushed a little at the display. Seeing it in a new light, it was rather beautiful to behold.  
  
“You know, you two could have many couples envious,” Hermione said, brushing her hair behind her ear. “What Ron and I have is something special, I am very grateful for it, but you two…you’re in another league completely.”  
  
“Well that’s nice of you to say,” Draco grinned, “But we already had a discussion about public attention and we both decided to go without it. Considering…”  
  
Hermione laughed. “It is, beautiful though. Hold onto it, life can be cruel sometimes but I know together you will both overcome whatever is thrown at you.” She gave Draco a smile. Out of everyone, Hermione was probably the most understanding and Harry had always been grateful for her friendship. But above all else, she always did say the sweetest things at the perfect moment. Her words kindled a warmth in their chests that spread right to the tips of their fingers.  
  
Harry glanced up at Draco as he got to his feet then, only just remembering the meal he’d been promised later. He grinned like an idiot, not caring how stupid he looked. “See you later, dear,” he teased, “have my meal ready for me, won’t you? Me and Hermione have some things to talk about while you’re preparing dinner.” Somehow, he couldn’t imagine Draco playing the little house-wife, but then, it was still fun to tease him. They both teased each other the same way, after all.  
  
The both of them turned back to face each other as Draco left then. And Hermione smiled. “He really loves you, doesn’t he?” She said softly. Harry just smiled. “So, let's get started on this then. We might not have much time.” Hermione opened up her bag, having set Hugo beside her on the couch. The small handbag swallowed half her arm, right up to her armpit.  
  
“You’re still using undetectable extension charms on your bag?” Harry asked, bemused.  
  
Hermione laughed. “What’s the point in being a witch if I can't use such spells? Besides. I had a lot to bring.” She pulled out a small familiar bottle of potion (a potion Harry knew, all to well) and handed it to him, before tugging out a chunk of her fuzzy locks and dropping it into the open vial.  
  
Harry winced at the vile, bubbling concoction in the large bottle. She’d brought a large dose in case he took a while; he wanted it to be perfect, after all. “I’ll have to keep Lilium wrapped up so that they don’t see the lack of red hair,” he mused, anyone outside of the Weasley family would not realise that Hermione Weasley’s baby was a fair bit older than Lilium in any case.  
  
Hermione set Lilium back in the basinet then as she dug deeper into her bag, pulling out some of her casual robes and shoving them towards Harry with a wry smile. Harry flushed. “At least you didn’t bring a dress,” he mumbled, swigging back a mouthful of the polyjuice potion and stoppering the vial. He waited. A moment and then…  
  
“You know, if you invented one with a better taste, Hermione, you could happily retire at twenty-two,” he laughed, as his body slowly changed into Hermione’s. It was a little unnerving to see his skin bubble, to see breasts sprout under his loose t-shirt.  
  
“Oi!” Hermione snapped, catching him staring down at himself.  
  
Harry grinned sheepishly. “Sorry, Hermione,” he laughed, pulling his t-shirt and trousers off and hastily re-dressing himself. He looked up then to see Hermione watching him with a frown on her face.  
  
“I’ll have to start running again, I’ve put on a bit of weight from Christmas, I think,” he mumbled to herself.  
  
“I’m not a mirror, stop staring at me,” Harry griped, doing up the jeans she had given him quickly.  
  
“Technically, I’m staring at _me_ ,” she argued.  
  
After dressing himself again, he stowed the polyjuice bottle in his pocket in case he needed another sip while he was out, before picking Lilium up. “I should’ve been Ron,” Harry mumbled, looking at her, still staring at him as if criticising herself.  
  
“And how would that have looked?” Hermione murmured. “I could easily be looking for myself, having _Ron_ shopping _there_ with a baby would raise suspicion. Now hurry up, you don’t want to be gone too long or Draco will suspect.”  
  
Harry nodded, snatching up his pouch of galleons before following Hermione to the floo. He embraced her tightly, still grinning as he pulled away. “I’ll contact you later and let you know how it went,” he said, casting his eye back over his shoulder to make sure no one was there. “Thanks again for your help, Hermione; I can’t really be out of the house looking like me on my own. And I can hardly have Draco come with me for _this_.”  
  
Hermione just nodded, picking Hugo up and stepping into the flames. “I’ll firecall you later. Be safe, Harry,” she said, before throwing the floo powder into the low flames and she was gone.  
  
Harry inhaled deeply, wrapping Lilium up tightly in his arms and turning, heading out the front door quietly. Narcissa was in the house somewhere, Snape was out, searching for Lucius still, Harry thought and Draco was in the kitchen, preparing food. They wouldn’t even notice he was gone, he thought. Heading down the path a little way to keep out of the wards, he stopped at the apparition point where the wards were clear and closed his eyes. He vanished with a pop.  
  
* * *  
  
With another elaborate flick of his wind, Draco cast a preservation spell over the meal. At last, it lay across the table in the large silver serving dishes, steaming, eternally fresh until it was consumed. It had taken him long enough, but finally, the meal was done. Except for the treacle tart (Harry’s favourite) which he had prepared for dessert and was cooking slowly under a timing charm. The oven would simply turn off when it was finished cooking and keep the dessert preserved inside until he was ready, meaning he could take the weight off his feet for a bit.  
  
All in all, he thought he’d outdone himself. He’d done it all by himself, with some gentle prompting from Eric to be sure, but nevertheless, all his own effort. He thought that deserved some rest.  
  
Draco sighed with satisfaction as he placed the tea towel back down on the side and strolled back through towards the lounge. An hour or so he’d been at it now, he’d never think less of Eric’s efforts again after this – cooking was hard work. Wiping the sweat from his brow as he exited the hot kitchen, Draco drifted into the main lounge, panic seizing him as he glanced around.  
  
Harry and Lilium were gone.  
  
An awful sense of dread settled in his stomach. Something was wrong, he could sense it.  
  
“Harry?” He called out to him, glancing around the room. He rushed across the room, ripping the curtains open to see if his husband was outside. He was not. His pace quickened and he rushed through the drawing room, the main foyer and the downstairs loo before rushing up the stairs. “Harry?!” He called out as he flew down the corridor, opening random doors as he went.  
  
 _Where is he_?! Draco swallowed hard, his breath rapid and tearing at his throat as panic choked him.  
  
“Draco, what is wrong?” Came a calm voice from the other end of one of the tall, marble corridors. Snape stood there, watching his break down, watching him strive not to crumble. He rushed over to his professor.  
  
“I can't…Harry…he’s…not here… _gone_. I don't…” He couldn't breathe. He couldn’t _think_!  
  
Snape’s face hardened as he stepped to Draco, his hands resting on his shoulders, steadying him in his panic. “Be still,” the potions master said firmly, squeezing his shoulders firmly. “What was he doing last?”  
  
Draco’s lips moved soundlessly for a few moment in the depths of his panic, his heart pulsing wildly in his throat. “H-He…he was…he was in the downstairs lounge with Granger – _Weasley_ ,” he corrected himself agitatedly. Snape gave a short nod, leading them both back down the stairs to the main foyer, where he tossed a handful of powder into the floo with a cry of, “The Burrow!”  
  
Leaving Draco hyperventilating at his side, Severus stuck his head in the hearth, looking around the Burrow’s quant little kitchen. He spied Granger-Weasley sitting at the large family table immediately. She glanced up quietly as the fire flared with his presence and cried, “Harry?” As she moved towards the flames, a frown creased her brow upon seeing it was not her friend. “Professor Snape?” She queried. “Is there something I can–?”  
  
“As a matter of fact,” Severus spoke over her, wishing to cut to the chase. If Potter had gotten himself into mischief again they needed to move fast. “Where did Potter go before you left?”  
  
Hermione’s face fell and she worried her lip anxiously. “I wasn’t supposed to tell…he…he wanted to get a surprise for Draco, I let him polyjuice into me for the trip so he’d be safe. He said he’d be back before Draco realised he was gone. He was only going to be an hour or so. He should be back now.”  
  
Severus’s chest felt tight. Potter and Lilium had left the manor unprotected? He nearly slammed his palm to his forehead in disdain. It seemed the man was no better than the boy he used to be, a reckless, foolhardy child acting without thought. He grinded his teeth together, just as the Granger-Weasley girl broke his thoughts.  
  
“Have you checked everywhere? It’s a big place, the manor; he might’ve just gotten tired and had a nap with Lilium?” She suggested.  
  
“Your intelligence astounds me, as ever,” Snape bit out. “Tell us if you hear from him,” he snapped, withdrawing from the fire and shutting the connection down, before turning to Draco, whose eyes were large and hopeful. “She says that he polyjuiced into her and went out to fetch a surprise for you. Supposedly he didn’t think you’d notice he was missing until he was already back. I’d advise you to check your suite and if he is not there _then_ perhaps panic should ensue.” But Draco seemed frozen, his skin deathly pale as if he might be physically sick any moment.  
  
Severus stepped closer to Draco again, tapping his face lightly with his open palm to bring him back to reality. “Draco,” he said softly, steering the boy to the armchair in the corner (that was mainly for decorative purposes) and settling him in it gently. “Stay here, Draco. I will go check your rooms for him. Don’t move. I’m sure he’s up there on your bed in a puddle of drool no doubt,” Severus assured him, squeezing the boy’s shoulder once more before disappearing swiftly up the stairs, leaving Draco alone in the hall.  
  
“Yes,” Draco agreed distantly as he stumbled back into the chair light-headedly. He felt so sick. Sickening images flickering through his mind, taunting pictures of Harry coming to harm, like a horrible, _disturbing_ play. His husband lying there beneath Lucius, covered in blood, but not yet his own. Lilium… _dead_?! Harry was curved over her, crying…  
  
“NO!” Draco shouted, the images taunting him still. He leapt to his feet. He needed to do something, _anything_! He needed to find Harry. He needed to hold him to prove to himself that he was alright! Rushing back down the corridor his gaze darted around the shadows. No one was there, nothing he could see. Just a lurking shadow at the very edge of the shadow.  
  
“Where is he?! Where the _fuck_ is he?! I’ll fucking kill you!” His arms flew through the air as the images traumatised him, lead him to madness. It was like being poisoned by his own worries. He stumbled and slammed into the nearest wall, his shoulder ached from the collision but he pushed on, using it as a prop to hold him up a few steps more. But the sound, the sight of his family in pain twisted in his gut like a knife and he plummeted to the ground, his eyes swelling.  
  
“ _No_ …where is…where is he…my husband and my baby…” He stuttered, sobbing. Those images were so vivid, so real he could almost _touch them_. His hand clasped his aching chest, tensing as if crushing the anguish to give him the power to stand. He gripped the invisible pain tightly, throttling it as he forced himself to his feet, using the wall as a ladder to make himself upright. _I have to find him_ , he thought determinedly, forcing himself down the corridor again.  
  
But as he staggered forwards and the pain flared furiously, he cried out. The shadow lingering at the end of the hall took a frighteningly clear form. Long, neglected blond locks hung dauntingly over those shoulders, those eyes piercing with venom as Lucius stepped out of the shadows and into the diminutive light cast in from the single window at the end of the hall.  
  
“ _Finite Incantatum_!” Lucius hissed and the flickering images, the sounds of his child and husband dying vanished from Draco’s senses. _Lucius_ had intensified his emotions? Had tried to drive him mad with them? He gave a wheezy breath, trying to catch the last of his sobs and swallow them, _choke_ on them rather than let Lucius see them.  
  
“Now, now, son,” Lucius cooed hoarsely, “Malfoys do not cry.” He stepped forward slowly, his back rigid and straight, his face the epitome of cool disinterest despite his wounded, filth-ridden body. He was relying on his cane as a walking stick now instead of using it as an ornament, but he was by no means feeble or broken. This man was still evil, still powerful and dangerous.  
  
And Harry and Lilium were gone. And Lucius, somehow he had gotten inside, through the wards?  
  
Lucius came to a halt before his son, raising his cane and caressing the side of his tear-stained cheek with the spiteful, serpent’s head. He gave a small, cruel smile. “I told you that Potter boy was not worthy of you, I told you it would not last, even if you managed to get him. Why I saw him earlier today, disapparating with a suitcase and your…your bastard child in tow.”  
  
Draco’s head shot up, his body rigid and shaking with a cross between fury and fear. He knew his father, knew he was spiteful and manipulative, knew he was lying and yet, in the midst of his hysteria, Draco struggled to make sense of truth and lies.  
  
“Yes,” Lucius purred darkly, “You’ve been so close to him the last few weeks, but as soon as he was out of your sight he fled. He _left you_ , Draco.” Lucius tilted his head a little to survey the damage he’d inflicted on his cracking son, seeing the boy’s teeth grind together with barely withheld fury. As if Draco was struggling to hold back an inevitable explosion. And then, Draco’s grip on it slipped.  
  
A snarl of unadulterated loathing tore free of his lips, his arms shaking but strong as he launched himself towards his father, his fingers gouging deep, bloody scores into his father’s throat as his fingers wrapped around them. He squeezed, he cried out again, his hate merging with anguish. He didn’t see his father now; he saw the cruel, boundless evil that _still_ tried to tear his happiness from him. He saw the vindictive bastard who had taken Harry and Lilium, had stowed them away somewhere and tried to break him with lies about their leaving him _willingly_! His voice was hoarse and rough but it didn’t tremble as he spoke.  
  
“If you've done _anything_ to them I swear ill…”  
  
Lucius stood there coolly. “You swear you will what, boy? Kill me? You actually believe that you could kill your own father?”  
  
Draco's hand slipped down then, reaching for his wand. He moved back, turning his wand on his father. “ _Expelliarmus_!”  
  
Lucius dodged the spell with his own counter curse, laughing at the feeble attempt. “Think you can disarm me?” He cooed.  
  
Draco raised his arm again. Firing his fury. “ _Stupefy_!”  
  
“ _Reducto_!”  
  
But every spell he threw at him was flicked off like it hadn't happened. His anger and frustration shot through him like a bolt of lightning. “ _Crucio_!” He cried in desperation.  
  
“ _Protego_!” Lucius screamed.  
  
Draco hit the floor then, the curse bouncing back at him, thick jolts of pain rippling through him as Lucius drew closer. Dark grey eyes glared down at him ominously, as if deriving the purest pleasure from every agonised shudder that shook his bones.  
  
“Pitiful creature,” Lucius sneered in revulsion, pressing on Draco’s windpipe with the tip of his polished shoe. Draco spluttered at the pressure starving him of air, his hands trying to fly up to push it away. But the curse rendered his limbs useless and uncontrollable. “Look at you,” Lucius purred, “Squirming, flailing on the floor like a fish out of water. How undignified, how unbecoming of a Malfoy. Now that Potter and that brat are out of the way, and soon your mother, we can begin your lessons again.”  
  
Leaning down, Lucius ended the curse, leaving his son breathless, sweaty and shivering on the cold marble floor, his chest heaving, eyes wide as if he had been petrified. The cruciatus was a beautiful spell, it made people so…so helpless, _honest_. “You used to love our lessons so, did you not? Draco? From the moment you were born people tried to take you from me, tried to make me _share you_ with them. Your mother, Severus, your professors. They tried to share you, I could not allow it without ensuring it was _me_ you would remember.” His lips tipped into a mad grin then, clearly that dark mark on his arm had driven him mad the moment Voldemort had clapped it onto his arm, and he was punishing Draco for it.  
  
“And you remember me, don’t you, son?” He breathed, brushing back Draco’s locks from his sweaty forehead. “With all the whores, even _Potter_ , you still remember _me_ , and the lessons I taught you. Potter, your mother, that traitor Severus, they tried to make you weak. They tried to erase the valuable lessons we learnt together, they have made you a simpering brat.” He leant in then, his lips hovering so close to Draco’s that the boy could taste the alcohol on his breath. “I had to surrender to but one man to be all-powerful, Draco. Lucky for you, I am forgiving. I can be forgiving, Draco, we will forget this, we will start again, away from this…”  
  
Suddenly, Lucius seized his son by the throat, yanking him up and crushing those tender lips with his own brutal kiss. He felt Draco struggle, felt his scream but he swallowed it easily, his tongue sweeping inside to taste his child’s lingering innocence, raping him of it. He drew back then, dropping his son to the floor and rising to his feet. His robes billowed threateningly as he reached inside for his wand and…something else…a vial of dark, crimson fluid…  
  
“We must sever the ties to your old life, Draco, it will only take a moment,” Lucius murmured, turning his wand on the vial and murmuring dark, foreboding curses under his breath. The room grew cold, eerily so, the very air icy as a dementor’s kiss. It seemed as if the world had stopped, literally frozen, the light dwindling into near darkness.  
  
Then, suddenly the world exploded into light. Up the corridor a blood-curdling scream sounded, ricocheting off the walls and through the hall. The room was flooded with furious, red light and the great manor trembled as if under the threat of earthquake. The scream continued, never-ending, shrill and agonised, piercing the very stones of the walls until they began to crumble. The roof groaned and bowed above them, Draco scrambled to his feet, his gaze flying to his childhood home that was suddenly shaking and collapsing around him.  
  
Flames burst to life from nothing, as if the sudden hurricane of a scream were the beat of a phoenix’s wings, setting the house ablaze. Panic rose thick in Draco’s throat, not only because his home was burning, not only because Severus and his mother and the elves were in here somewhere. But because he knew that scream, he knew it was Harry’s. Lucius had done this and he had somehow used Harry to do it, had _hurt_ him to do it.  
  
“S-STOP IT!!” Draco bellowed, his lungs stinging. “I don't _want_ this!” Draco struggled out of his father’s grasp and across the room, clutching his own wand. The fire flickered fiercely around him, lapping at him with surging hunger for burning flesh. The heat was unbearable and the smoke was rising quickly keeping an eye on his father, backing as far away as the flames permitted, he cast a hasty bubble-headed charm and then…  
  
“ _Flipendo_!” Draco chanted, flourishing his wand confidently despite his fury and fear, the light of the spell slamming straight into his father’s chest.  
  
Lucius flew backwards, narrowly avoiding the inferno. He scrambled upright, his hair and eyes wild as he watched Draco start to flee. “Stop right there boy!” He screamed, but Draco was already moving. He swore despite the charm protecting him, the taste of the smoky air still choked his lungs as he bolted down the corridor. His father was hot on his heels. He couldn't stop. He wouldn't. He had to find Harry and Lilium. He _had_ to! Despite the fear and torment, all that Draco could think was… _Harry_. Not Lucius or his taunts or his torture, his dark threats. They couldn’t touch him. Draco could suffer every pain he’d ever felt all at once and still, the thing that scared him most was the thought that _something_ might have…  
  
He didn't even want to think. Harry’s scream had sounded so…  
  
He just ran. And he ran.  
  
* * *  
  
Crossing the lounge of his and Draco’s suite, Harry set Lilium down in the bassinet and stooped to tickle Spinks’s ears as the kitten bolted into the room to greet him. “Hello, girl, sorry I left. I wasn’t gone too long,” he said softly, hearing her purr appreciatively as he stroked her silky black fur. Delving into the pocket of his travelling robes, he felt the small, neat package he had acquired today, smiling nervously. He hoped it gave Draco everything he had planned. Hurriedly, he changed back into his own clothes, folding Hermione’s neatly on the side to return to her later. His body had returned to normal as soon as he had stepped through the floo into their chambers. He had felt the wards ripple as he passed through them, eradicating him of his disguise as they were designed to for anyone entering the manor.  
  
Lilium gave a fussy little whine then and Harry smiled fondly, remembering that he’d left a bottle under a preserving charm to keep it fresh and warm in the bedroom. Striding into the room, Harry could not help but feel light, _warm_ inside as he pictured Draco’s face when he presented him with his gift. He snatched the bottle off the side, turning to return to the other room. But he froze.  
  
Harry’s entire body went rigid and the bottle crashed to the floor, milk bursting over the carpet. His limbs quivered as white-hot magic pierced his every pore like a thousand needles. His mouth dropped open, his eyes wide in a scream he was too stunned to let out. He wanted to scream, he wanted to cry. His body was frozen with agony but for the tremors. It felt like _fire_ swooping over his skin. It felt like his blood had been replaced with acid, eating away, searing his heart, savaging his organs with vicious, burning teeth.  
  
Harry did scream then. The sound shrill and choked as it tore from his throat. His body jerked with spasms. His insides were cooking, he swore he felt them liquefy and he dropped to his knees screaming bloody murder. He arched his back, his burning muscles tight as a bowstring, his head thrown back as he howled his anguish to the world.  
  
A blinding, orange light, a _fire_ exploded from his core. It was as if his magic, his every strain of power had surged within and turned to flames until they burst from his skin, searing his body as it exploded into the room around him. He gagged then, hurling up the contents of his raw stomach with the pain, spluttering and clawing at the carpet.  
  
Smoke filled his lungs then and he struggled to raise his head enough to see the bedroom ablaze. His eyes went wide. What had happened to him? It had felt like his magic had swelled and exploded within. It had created this? The flames roared and the house shook, groaning as if ready to buckle. A bone-chilling cry filled his ears then and he shoved himself off of the ground with all his strength. _I have to get Lilium out!_  
  
His body was weak, shaking even as he flew into the room, encountering the flames. His skin was raw as if burnt already but he hissed as the flames spat at him. Hurdling the settee that was ablaze, he pulled his daughter tight to his chest, casting a bubble-headed charm around her hastily to save her from the smoke. His insides trembled warningly at the use of magic and he felt his stomach wobble like a bowl of jelly. What had caused this? What had turned his blood to acid, his magic to all-consuming flames?  
  
 _My blood_ , he thought, backing away as the wall of flames roared and the ceiling bowed above. _That whore, at the hospital, she stole my blood, for Lucius!_ Lucius had done this with his blood somehow. An almighty screech from the side made him swing his head around then and Harry saw the fire building almost a cage around the bureau and his stomach dropped, the cry was an animal’s.  
  
Suddenly the ceiling above dropped and Harry lurched backwards, clutching Lilium tightly to his chest just as the support beam dropped where they had been standing moments before. The plaster and the debris from above rained down like an apocalyptic sign of hell approaching and he stumbled frantically backwards into the doorway wincing at the sounds of the squealing kitten.  
  
He couldn’t leave her.  
  
Reaching for his wand again, Harry turned it on the flames. “ _Aguamenti Maximas_!” He cried, and a torrent of water surged like a serpent from his wand, dousing the flames around the bureau. He shot forwards, his movement shakier after that spell and he swiped at the little black kitten, glad to see she hadn’t been burnt. “Stay still, while I get us out of here,” he demanded of her, tucking her into the deep, inside-pocket of his robes.  
  
Staggering back to the door. Harry hissed as the heat coursing through the door handle stung his hand. He couldn’t touch it! His wand was in his other hand but he dared not use it, he would collapse from exhaustion if he used another spell and he needed to get Lilium out of here. Another, ominous groan from above and another shuddering tremble of the walls. Harry leapt back, just in time as another beam fell. The wood was ablaze and blocking his way to the door, trapping him in a circle of fire and smoke that was ever-closing in.  
  
“Shit!” He cursed, his eyes darting around for another means of escape, but the only plausible way out was through that door. Then, as if his thoughts had been heard, he watched through a veil of smoke and fiery madness as the door swung back. Beyond the hurdle of fire the beam across the room had created, he saw Jeremy standing there.  
  
“W-What are you doing here?” Harry demanded, the fire closing in behind him. “N-Never mind that, can you move the beam? I – I can’t use my magic I–” But before he had even finished, Jeremy had drawn his wand.  
  
“ _Aguamenti Maximas_!” He yelled, and the fire streaked across the beam died. “I cannot put all of the fire out, we’ll just have to get you and the baby out of the manor as quickly as possible,” Jeremy explained swiftly, reaching out to let Harry use him as support as he clambered over the debris. Harry stumbled into him, clutching tightly at the precious bundle in his arms and staring up into the man’s conflicted eyes.  
  
“Why are you here? I…” Harry cast a glance back at the fire eating away the place that had been his and Draco’s home and winced. Finally, he had a home and it was being burnt to a crisp. Draco. “I need to find Draco, Narcissa and Snape are here too and I–”  
  
Jeremy set his hands on Harry’s shoulders, tugging him from the room forcibly and out into the flaming hall. “We need to get you out, Harry. You must think of your daughter. Your husband would want you to get her to safety, surely?” The words made sense but losing Draco did not. Harry winced as the man dragged him down the hall, dodging falling wisps of fire and shards of cracked ceiling.  
  
“I can’t leave Draco!” Harry insisted, screaming above the chaos, wrenching his arm free of Jeremy’s grasp. “I won’t leave him! He’d always come back for me, I won’t let him–!”  
  
“Watch out!” Jeremy cried, throwing himself against Harry, pinning him to the wall and narrowly escaping the tide of flames that fell through the ceiling from the floor above. The house was falling apart!  
  
“Harry, come on!” Jeremy pleaded, dragging Harry through the chaos of the burning stairs. “I will go back and look for Draco. You need to get your daughter out!” Suddenly, a final beam fell from above, narrowly missing them just as Jeremy shattered the window, sending them flying through the rain of glass. They landed with a hard _thump_ on their backs in the grass outside, the broken glass cutting into them as they tried to gather their senses. A small sacrifice to escape the flames.  
  
“Harry?!” Narcissa bellowed, flying towards him and taking Lilium from his arms as he and Jeremy struggled to their feet. Aside from them, she was alone, waiting on the grass. “Are you alright?”  
  
Harry choked and spluttered but nodded hastily. He was still insistent on going back for Draco.  
  
“Severus advised me to stay here in case any of you got out,” Narcissa continued. “I'm so glad you and Lilium are alright, Harry.” Just from looking at her, Harry could see she was in the same place as him. She wanted to go back in and fight, to find Draco. But Severus Snape was a logical man, and perhaps leaving her outside to assist everyone else was the right idea? After all Lucius _was_ her husband and she knew what was coming. Even if her gut was almost visibly twisting and wrenching with worry for her son, it was best if she remained here. But Harry could not see the sense in that in relation to himself.  
  
Narcissa and Harry moved backwards from the building a little, but as Harry turned, he saw Jeremy, eyes wide and glassy.  
  
“J-Jeremy?” Harry asked, frowning when the man continued to edge back slightly towards the house.  
  
“I'm…I’m so sorry,” Jeremy whispered, giving Harry a fleeting, apologetic look before turning on heel and fleeing back across the rubble and into the smoke.  
  
“Wait!” Harry cried, but Jeremy was gone. Harry’s heart was thudding madly. Sweat slicking his skin with exhaustion. It felt like he was about to drop, but he couldn’t just _sit_ here! He couldn’t just wait around for someone else to save the people he loved. He learned that hard lesson a long time ago.  
  
“I don't understand what’s going on here…Lucius?” Harry asked, his suspicions about the blood confirmed when Narcissa nodded. Her eyes glistened with the brewing tears while she rocked little Lilium in her arms. His jaw set with determination, Harry plucked Lilium out of his pocket and placed her down on the grass beside Narcissa.  
  
“I have to go back,” he breathed.  
  
“Harry, no, _please_?!” Narcissa argued. But Harry’s mind was already set. He wouldn’t lose another person because he was too weak or too slow or too reckless. He wouldn’t allow Lilium to grow up without Draco. Draco who had been the one that had wanted her most of all from the very beginning.  
  
“But you are already drained of your magic!” Narcissa protested again as he cast his gaze on the house apprehensively. “What help will you be?!”  
  
“I'll be alright,” Harry said, smiling albeit breathlessly. “I'm not the chosen one for nothing.” He ran then, disregarding Narcissa’s voice and Lilium’s cries, though they pained him, returning to the flames. He would bring Draco back to them, he _would.  
  
It’s what you do._ He heard Hermione’s voice say. _You have a saving people thing…_  
  
Maybe he did. Maybe he could accept that. Accept who he was at last, but he had done it with Draco’s help. Draco’s love. And what he wouldn’t, _couldn’t_ accept was that this was the end, that Draco wouldn’t come back to him. He wouldn’t allow that to happen.  
  
* * *  
  
Draco fell with a thump to the ground, his face smashing into the unforgiving floor, his legs bound in thick, brown rope. His father had cast the curse, binding him, giving him enough time to catch up to his son. Draco frantically turned his head to take the pressure off his now bleeding nose, spitting the blood gathering in his mouth out onto the floor. Spluttering and choking while his father stood over him, chuckling darkly at his suffering.  
  
He remembered this now. What Lucius called their ‘lessons’. He, Draco would suffer unbearably, struggling with all his might not to cry out while Lucius would push his pain (and pleasure) barriers further. Laughing the entire time. Draco winced as he held back another cough, not wanting to give Lucius the satisfaction.  
  
Movement to the side of his face drew his attention then and he strained his neck to look up. A dark cloak was all he could see, but the cloak’s voice soon alerted him to the identity of the wearer. “Step away from the boy,” Severus warned, as he stood over Draco, his dark eyes shadowed with the reflection of his own fierce fire. Lucius’s own eyes turned to slits and he snarled furiously. They both turned their wands on each other, daring the other to make the first move while Draco lay between them, struggling to remove himself from the ropes binding him.  
  
He just wanted to get to Harry!  
  
“You may have stolen the boy’s mother from under my nose, _old friend_ ,” Lucius spat, “But this is between my son and me. Kindly refrain from sticking that regrettably large nose out of my business!”  
  
Snape did not so much as flinch at the biting insult. He kept his wand trained on his old friend, edging forwards to put himself as close behind Draco as possible. “The manor is falling down around us, Lucius,” Snape began unwaveringly. “Kill me if you must, but let us not stand here foolishly in a torrent of flames. It is suicide!”  
  
Lucius gave a low chuckle, shaking his head slowly. “And to think you thought yourself a better father to Draco than I. Surely any _fool_ would know that with Potter and that wailing brat burned alive Draco would rather join them? I had to bind him, you see to keep him from running into the flames–”  
  
“Your son isn’t under your control anymore, Lucius. Let him go, and fight _me_!” Snape demanded. He could feel the heat of the fire pressing in and his mind worked frantically to find a way to release Draco from his bonds and get him to safety without Lucius killing them both.  
  
“The quicker you drop your wand, Severus, the quicker Draco and I can be on our way…”  
  
Severus’s face contorted with sheer loathing, the like of which had never touched him before. The mere thought of Draco at Lucius’s mercy again was too much to bear. If Potter was dead or not, he could _not_ allow that to happen! “ _Accio_ cabinet!” He cried and the flaming furniture came flying off the wall and slammed into Lucius’s back. The wizard howled, reducing the object to ashes, but Severus had already dropped to his knees by Draco’s side.  
  
“ _Relashio_!” He hissed urgently, snatching up Draco’s wand and pressing it into the boy’s hand as the ropes fell away. “Get out of the house. Let me take care of Lucius, Draco. Just _get away_. Your mother is waiting there for you–!”  
  
“ _Piertotum Locomotor_!” Lucius’s voice rang through the room.  
  
Draco and Severus leapt apart as the suit of armour leapt from the wall, lunging at Snape. A metal arm, red-hot from the flames caught Snape’s wrists and he cried out in anguish, his flesh sizzling revoltingly as he wrenched his hand free. “ _Flipendo_!” The suit of armour jerked back, but not far enough. It swiped at the air to reach him again, locking Snape in a battle with it and leaving Draco alone to face his father – exactly what he _hadn’t_ wanted to do. When it came down to it, he wasn’t sure that Draco could kill Lucius, not even if Potter’s life were in danger.  
  
“Draco, run!” Severus commanded. He didn't care if he died, if he burnt down with the manor and took Lucius with him. He just wanted Draco to get out, to be free. But Draco didn't move. It was as though the elements had the reverse effect, freezing him to the spot and holding him there. His skin burned in the searing heat. But his heart was ice cold. His fingers rattled with shivers while Snape struggled to break free in the fading background.  
  
Here he stood, before his father. Wand to wand. All the fear, hatred, the _torture_ , it had all faded with the background. Everything was empty. The room had stilled and Draco remained quiet.  
  
This was it.  
  
“What’s the matter… _Draco_?” The older man before him purred. “You can stop this. You can come with me and forget how you have sinned. You can be… _reborn_.” His father’s voice was chilling, hauntingly welcoming. Committed in a way that meant Lucius truly believed everything he was saying. “All you have to do is come with me,” the older blond tried again, beckoning him closer with a gesture of his hand.  
  
Draco didn't like fake invitations. His mind flickered back to a time when his father had invited his ‘friends’ round for a birthday of his, and he had used the celebration as a means to only humiliate him. Draco had never understood those acts before. He knew that the mindless torture was wrong; in his head as a child he always had known that. But until recently, he hadn’t seen just how sick his father was, how he had derived pleasure from his humiliation. Even the times when it seemed he was truly acting on his, Draco’s behalf, with his best interests at heart…  
  
When he was young, he had thought that one day, he’d see that all of this could explained with a valid reason. A reason that meant his father wasn’t really the villain at all. Life wasn’t that kind.  
  
It was like everything clicked suddenly into place while he stood fixed to the floor. Solitary. All of his memories of his father, even the happy ones before the ‘torment’ had begun, he knew now were distorted. Not real.  
  
He stood still in the flames, among the rubble and felt naked and bare to it all. But at the same time, he felt more aware, more alive. He had held back for so long because he had wanted to hold onto those happy memories, wanted to believe his father was, deep down, a good man. But his father had never existed inside Lucius Malfoy. And the picture-perfect memories were just dreams, idle hopes of the boy he’d once been. But even they didn't exist now. There was nothing, he felt _nothing_ for Lucius Malfoy. Nothing but hate.  
  
“Well? What do you say?” Lucius asked smoothly.  
  
“No more… Do you _hear_ me?” Draco's eyes fluttered open, fury burning within. It was as though everything went into slow motion as he grasped his wand and swished it over his head in ready for attack. “The only person who has sinned is you. Everything I am and everything I have, you will _never_ understand. But understand this; I hate you. You are nothing to me now, just a dream, a _shadow_ and I will do everything in my power to put you in your grave _where you belong_!” The last few words were a scream that tore his throat with the years of built up fury. But it was liberation, a _release_ to unshackle the pain at last and let it loose on the source of it.  
  
He flipped his wand from behind his head with the force of his spell he sent careening across the room, “ _Reducto_!” A light shot from his wand. The older man dodged just in time to fire his own spell back at him.  
  
“ _Conjunctivitis_!” Lucius snarled, watching his son double over in pain, crying out as he rubbed frantically at his eyes whilst trying to keep his wand trained on an enemy he could not see. Lucius strode casually towards his only son, disregarding the fiery world around him as it threatened to cave in. “If you won’t come willingly, Draco, I will have to take you forcibly – for your own good.” He cast his wand on the encroaching flames, swiping them back a little as they got too near. He wasn’t finished with Draco yet. “Your _‘husband’_ is dead, Draco. Your little game of ‘house’ has come to an end. I see I shall have to remind you of our lessons.” He raised his wand to a temporarily blinded Draco then.  
  
“ _Imperio_!”  
  
“NO!” A voice cried, its owner barrelling into Lucius and sending the spell whizzing off into nothingness.  
  
“You traitorous little fool!” Lucius hissed, shoving Jeremy away from him. The man scrambled to his feet as Lucius towered over him, putting himself between Lucius and Draco, who was still blinded by the previous curse, but thankfully not under his father’s control. The spell had missed.  
  
“I – I can’t do it!” Jeremy stammered, his wand out even though his arm shook, shuffling backwards a little, but not fleeing, not surrendering. For once in his life, he would do the right thing for the _right_ reason. “I thought I could help you, for my family, for me but I can’t! I can’t hurt people! I saw – saw that baby and Harry and Draco and I…” He grit his teeth, his jaw set. He was not brave, or a coward, but he knew the pain this man could inflict on him with a pass of his wand, he had _seen_ what he had reduced Harry Potter to!  
  
“I – I’ll make up for my mistakes! I won’t let you hurt them. Y-You’ll…you’ll let them go!”  
  
“You betray me?!” Lucius's eyes darkened. “You think you can get away with betraying me?!”  
  
Harry soon reached the chasm of fire the upper foyer had been reduced to. Staying still beyond the crumbling marble walls, his eyes fixed on his husband, and Jeremy, then Lucius. From where he stood, Harry quietly chanted. The spell hit Snape’s inanimate adversary and the potions master felt the tight grip of the suit of armour loosen suddenly, invisible arms of magic forcing the charmed object back away from him. Freeing him. No one else had noticed. Snape caught Harry’s gaze from across the room and flames then, his dark eyes widening, as if warning him away. But Harry's expression was set and stubborn and Snape already knew what was about to happen…  
  
“I’m _not_ dead!” Harry announced wrathfully, coming in to view through the thickening smoke and causing everyone’s attention to fly over to him, leaving room for Snape to disappear back into the smoke around them…  
  
“A stupid move. What a completely idiotic move, _Potter_ ,” Lucius cooed darkly. “You _weren't_ dead, but you will be…soon,” He warned. Being drained of magic and throwing himself in the firing line. Lucius was right about that one ting. It was idiotic. But Harry had always rushed in head first and he had won and escaped with his life each time! And today would not be any exception.  
  
Draco's eyes glistened as he heard Harry’s voice. Vaguely, he registered the sound of counter curse in his ears. The emotion, the relief swelled like a lump in his throat as his vision returned and he could see Harry standing before him. His heart leapt. Harry was alive! _Thank the heavens!_  
  
“M-My blood…” Harry choked as the smoke furled up in his lungs despite the spell protecting him. His magic was fading, his consciousness was, and so, of course, were his spells. He stumbled forwards, his fingers digging into Draco’s shoulders as he tried to explain. “T-That time…he took my blood…my magic…he has done _something_ to me.” Harry winced as his legs threatened to give out under him. Under the adrenaline of earlier he had made it out (with Jeremy’s help). Now his strength was fading and the counter-curse he had used on Draco had sapped his reserves. “Draco…I'm defenceless, it feels like I’m…I’m fading… _shattering_!”  
  
Draco's eyes narrowed as Lucius moved shiftily a few feet away. “Get behind me,” he insisted.  
  
“No!” Harry argued, seizing Draco’s arm tightly as if he would fade if he let him go. “This house is falling down around us. We need to get out. _Please_ , come with me!” His body shook, his heart thudded sluggishly in his chest. His skin crawled with that foreboding buzz, like hundreds of insects crawling beneath his skin. It felt like he had donated half his body’s blood, his energy. And he supposed he had, he realised, as the fire closed in and the walls crumbled. He had unwillingly donated his blood to bring havoc down around them.  
  
“Let’s go! _Please_ , Draco, I can…I can barely stand, let’s–”  
  
“ _Expulso_!”  
  
Suddenly the ceiling burst above them, they flew apart out of the shower brick and mortar. Snape leapt out of the smoke, catching Draco by the scruff of his neck _just_ saving him from tumbling into the smouldering flames. He yanked him upright sharply, just as Lucius turned on Harry, swinging his arm back and bringing the solid force of his cane crashing across Harry’s face.  
  
Harry’s head snapped to the side with the force. A grunt of winded agony ripped from Harry’s lips as blood spurted with a warning hiss onto the flames trapping him; the only way to run was exactly where Lucius stood but a few feet from him.  
  
“I have had _enough_ of the trouble your miserable existence has caused me, _Potter_!” Lucius snarled. “Spinning Draco’s head with ill-conceived notions about love and happiness. I will rid him of this…this _pitiful_ obsession, once and for all!” He raised his wand, and the world hurtled into slow-motion.  
  
A scream from across the room where Draco stood pierced the air, almost smothering Lucius quiet murmur of “ _Sectumsempra_!” A blinding light bolted from his wand, flying directly for Harry’s throat.  
  
  
 _~To Be Continued..._

  


	28. White-Hot Oblivion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This the last chapter of Dawning Affliction, following this is the Epilogue (which I am uploading as you read this probably) and then it's the end. To everyone who has read or reviewed, everyone who has supported us a big thank you! 
> 
> When you get to the end of the chapter if you can’t see the ‘Next Chapter’ to get to the epilogue, please refresh – it’s there I promise. Hope you enjoy the end!

[Twenty-Eight]  
 **White-Hot Oblivion**  
  
  
  
  
A sharp cry of anguish drowned out Draco’s, the sound of the flames crackling, the house crumbling, everything seemed silent as Harry watched Jeremy’s body come between him and the spell before it dropped to the ground. He crawled forwards hastily, disregarding Lucius’s presence and rolling his fallen friend over onto his back. Harry tried not to wince at the mess of his flesh. Great gaping pools of blood were spreading fast over his chest and arms but what made Harry’s stomach clench was the thick slice through his throat. He reached for his wand, only to feel a quivering hand grab his wrist.  
  
“D-Don’t!” Jeremy spluttered, choking on his own blood, no doubt. “I – I’m done for. J-Just…s-sorry f-for…I never meant to – to hurt your family or…never wanted to hurt…h-hurt any– anyone…!”  
  
Harry shook his head, his eyes glistening. He didn’t want to see anymore death, not ever again. “Don’t apologise. Let me heal you, or Snape, he created the spell, he can–”  
  
“D-Didn’t know what I s-signed up f-for. I never wanted to…to…!” Jeremy gurgled his words sickeningly, his hands reaching up and clenching around Harry’s. “Y-You have every…thing that I w-want,” he spluttered and Harry knew he meant Lilium and the relationship between himself and Draco. “E-Everything any…any man could want. D-Don’t let…let him…t-take it!”  
  
“ _Avada Kedavra_!”  
  
Harry flinched as that dazzling green light flew towards him. His eyes did not even have time to close as it bolted through the air, directly at him. But it was Jeremy’s body that slumped, lifeless in his arms, his eyes dead and wide, devoid of the kindness Harry had seen in them. Another life, cut down like a withering flower right before his eyes. Stolen by that deadly light.  
  
“At last. I tired of his simpering,” Lucius hissed with revulsion, stepping towards Harry casually, pressing his wand directly between Harry’s eyes. The Boy Who Lived stared up the wand at him with his eyes dark with loathing. Lucius pressed a little harder, watching Potter’s skin dent at the pressure of his wand. “And I grow tired of you, Mister Potter. Your turn.” To his credit, the boy sat unmoved, unflinching under the threat of his imminent demise. He would enjoy removing the defiance from those eyes. “ _Avada_ –” But his words were cut short.  
  
“ _Expelliarmus_!” Draco chanted. But Lucius’s wand only flicked feebly in his hand. Lucius was furious.  
  
“For goodness sake! I have had enough of these games! _Reducto_!” He cried and the ground beneath Draco shattered, sending him rolling to the floor. Without even to watch his son recover from the collision with the marble slabs, he flew at the chosen one once more. “Just _die_ , Potter! Die for infecting my only son, my perfect son…!” He shouted, bringing his wand down again on Harry who was still cradling Jeremy’s lifeless form.  
  
Draco's eyes darkened to a thunderous silver as he wrenched himself to his feet despite his pain, throwing himself between Harry and his father without a moments pause. His very bones shook but his wand arm did not. His eyes were hard, unyielding to the sight of his father’s face, as dark as a storm cloud and shining with flashes of furious lightning. This man, father or not, would _never_ point his wand at Harry, never threaten his family again.  
  
Lucius’s gaze flared with a malevolent light, and he delved into his pocket with the hand unoccupied by his wand. He watched the dread reach his son’s face as he waved the little vial of blood before his eyes. “You think using this blood to make your little _pet_ golden boy’s magic combust was scary? You think he sounded anguished? Imagine what other revolting things I can do to him with one – little – spell. Hmm? Shall we find out?”  
  
Behind Draco, Harry tensed, his innards were still jerking with aftershocks of the last assault, he didn’t know if his body could withstand much more. Draco physically shook with rage between him and Lucius.  
  
Evidently amused by the proceedings, Lucius chuckled darkly, before adding, “And if Potter shares your little _spawn’s_ blood, I am sure I can inflict something ghastly on her also–”  
  
“Don’t you dare!” Harry snarled, launching forwards, scrambling to reach the man who threatened them, only held at bay by Draco’s free arm. “Don’t you dare! If you hurt her I’ll use whatever magic I have left to _burn you alive_ from the _inside out_!” He snarled. Draco shoved him back firmly but gently, keeping him out of Lucius’s reach. If Lucius got a hold of him and disappeared again…the consequences didn’t bear thinking about. No, this ended now, today, there would be no more looking over their shoulders, no more of their time together wasted by worrying about this man.  
  
“Decide now, Draco. Before I get impatient and force you into action, can your pretty little girl withstand something similar to what your golden boy endured? She’s only a few weeks old as I understand it…” Lucius’s eyes and teeth glinted in the encroaching firelight like a demented vampire. “And your precious Potter looks as if he’s about to drop…”  
  
Suddenly, a light flew out of the smoke and Lucius screamed bloody murder as it blew a chunk of flesh from his arm. He clutched at it madly, hissing in pain as Snape stepped out of the swelling inferno. He said not a word. That wand expelled a dark, crimson light again, the spell making the skin of Lucius’s right thigh burst, splattering Harry and Draco with blood.  
  
“I. Will. Kill. You!” Lucius gasped raggedly, blood oozing from his broken limbs as he forced himself to turn so that he could watch all of his adversaries at once. “Worse than Potter, you are, with your meddling and your treachery! Too foul of face and wealth and blood to find a family for yourself you have sought to steal mine from the very start!” His words were garbled with pain, almost as if he were gurgling up blood.  
  
“Even if there were a shred of truth to that, Lucius,” Severus breathed harshly, “There is nothing that can be stolen unless it wishes to be.”  
  
“I will kill you,” Lucius snarled again, blood spraying with his spittle. “You and then the Potter boy, then his brat and Draco will be free of you all at last. He will be perfect again–”  
  
“You are _blind_ if you cannot see that the man your son became in _spite_ of your cruelties, is far closer to perfection that you will _ever be_!” Snape bellowed, brandishing his wand again. “ _Levicorpus_!”  
  
Lucius somehow dodged the spell, mad with fury. “ _Confringo_!”  
  
Snape ducked just in time, making his way to stand beside Draco and Harry. There wasn’t time to play with Lucius while the house was burning down. “Haven't you had enough, Lucius?! Is this really the man you have become?” Snape demanded.  
  
Lucius laughed, glaring ominously at them all despite the rapid loss of blood. He was so deluded by darkness he didn't even seem to be a shadow of the man he once was, and hadn’t been for a long time.  
  
The walls were crumbling away like sand in an hourglass now, rapidly speeding towards a complete collapse with every passing second. Malfoy Manor was falling to the ground. The beautiful marble walls (that had seen centuries of Malfoys be born, grow and die) were cracking. Draco’s childhood home was breaking apart from under his feet, like his childhood had broken apart with the fissures Lucius himself had inflicted. How ironically beautiful. How dangerously tragic that it was going to end this way.  
  
But he wouldn't let any of the people he loved come to harm ever again.  
  
“ _Stupefy_!” Snape shouted, acting before Draco had even realised Lucius had tried to attack again.  
  
“ _Protego_!” Lucius countered, just in time.  
  
The sheer force of the spell ricocheted off of Lucius’s shield, rebounding back on Severus, hard, throwing him back into the crumbling walls. The marble groaned at the impact, before raining down on the fallen man, burying him. Thick debris rolled out into the already thick layer of smoke and flame, feeding the fire.  
  
“NO!” Harry screamed from where he stood. But it was too smoky to see and he could barely move as it was. His blood was needle-sharp in his veins, slicing at his insides as the fluid carried to each of his aching organs. It felt like with every thud of his heart, a great led weight was being laid on his failing limbs, shattering him with every movement. He was starting to get dizzy.  
  
Something in Draco had taken an equal blow as he watched Severus buried under the wreckage. Something in him bled and ached and screamed. Who else would he have to lose before he had the guts to face his demons? He felt numb. Resolute in what was to come. Who else would he watch snatched away? Harry? Lilium? His Mother? It was time to end this. Now.  
  
“I didn't think I would ever have the strength to do this with my own hands, but now we’re here, I’m glad it's come down to me to end it. To end _you_ ,” Draco breathed, choking on his own words. But his thoughts were clear as day in this eternal night, this cloak of darkness he was about to tear free of.  
  
Shoving Harry back away from the conflict, he raised his wand. It all happened at the speed of light then. He flew at Lucius. His heart trembled. His chest was tight and his limbs felt tense as he summoned every desperate inch of darkness inside him. Every shred of badness that tainted his soul, he reached for. He tore it from his body, cleansing himself of it forever by hurling it into the curse. With but a fleeting moments pause, Draco launched the forbidden curse with the force of his gathered darkness. He shuddered as it bolted through the very core of his wand. Green lightning burst from the tip, breaking through everything, burning the very air it travelled through within a split-second of those words leaving his lips…  
  
“ _Avada Kadavra_!”  
  
The orange light swamping the room was drowned by a tidal wave of emerald light. It obliterated everything from his father’s eyes, his life, his gleam of wicked amusement, his cruelty. And yet that sick, malevolent grin lingered, even as his body was thrown backwards into the wall of flames. The fire swallowed his shape up hungrily, licking at his skin with the sickening smell of death rising from the smoke.  
  
There was a moment then, that Draco just stood there, watching the place where his father had been lost to the flames with cold eyes, panting with exertion. It had taken everything he’d had to cast that spell. Not only magic, but will as well. But that was it, he was gone. He would never hurt Harry or Lilium or his mother, Snape, _any_ of them again.  
  
Tears, shining light diamonds with the renewed, orange light, rolled down his pale cheeks in a mixture of relief and loss. His father was gone, and even if he hadn’t been a very good one, he felt a sense of loss. _But the threat is gone as well. The man who hurt you, the man who hurt_ them. _They’re safe,_ a voice whispered in his ear, _your family are safe._  
  
The relief was so profound that he almost forgot where he was, surrounded by fire, in the middle of his crumbling manor. Harry calling, no _screaming_ his name yanked him roughly back into reality, where the flames were hot, where the pain stung and where Harry and Severus were still in danger.  
  
“Draco!” Harry screamed desperately, and Draco’s head whipped round to find Harry on his knees beside the rubble that had swallowed the potions master, digging frantically with his bare hands. “Draco! Hurry! We have to get him out of here!”  
  
Draco flew to his side. Without his magic, Harry was resolved to diving through rough stone and marble and worse, his hands bleeding from the way he tore into the heap with desperation. “H-He might not be dead!” Harry insisted, scrambling through the mess, his voice verging on hysterical, despite his face being set in bravery. He stopped then, pausing but a moment before wrapping his hand around the wrist he’d found and tugging the body it was attached to as Draco levitated some more rubble away.  
  
Harry bent down over his old teacher, pressing his ear to his chest. Warm relief filled his insides even as they shook with spasms. “He’s breathing,” he assured Draco, stumbling back unsteadily out of the way. His head spun as he got to his feet and he felt Draco’s arms race out to seize his shoulders, steadying him as his vision jerked and his body swayed. “‘M ‘kay,” he mumbled, shaking his head in an attempt to clear it. He thought he was going to pass out. _Get out of here before you fall down like a lump,_ he told himself, forcing his eyes open to see the beautiful blurry image of his husband right before his eyes.  
  
“M-Mobilicorpus,” he managed out, the exhaustion and the chaos and the curse taking it’s toll at last now his adrenaline had run him dry. “U-Use it to float Snape’s body out beside us…n-need to get out…”  
  
Taking Harry's advice without a word, Draco carefully cast his spell, the dark professor rising from the rubble. “Come on, get on,” Draco pleaded, his voice rough and husky with devastation. His very soul felt as ragged and worn as his body.  
  
Harry shook his head in answer.  
  
“The house is going to collapse at any moment!” Draco warned, but Harry still seemed to protest. Draco followed Harry’s gaze to where they lingered over Jeremy’s fallen body then. But he couldn't get the four of them out, and Jeremy…he was already dead. He couldn’t be saved. He knew Harry was a respectful person, was a noble man, sometimes infuriatingly so, but he would not lose either him or Severus out of some sense of _respect_ to a dead body.  
  
“Just get on my bloody back,” he demanded. “I'll get us out. You can barely walk, you have no choice and I won't let you die on me now for fucks sake! I love you!”  
  
Harry blushed slightly, the colour only visible through the glow from the room because of the worrying paleness of his skin.  
  
“Now, come on!” Draco crouched down to take Harry onto his back, steadying the hand that held his wand, turning it on the inferno. “ _Aguamenti Maximas_!” He cried, dousing the nearby flames with a furious torrent of water. The wall of fire blocking their exit hissed noisily, evaporating into a barrier of smoke and steam. Draco felt Harry duck his head into his neck, holding his breath against the assault of the grey mist when it swallowed them whole.  
  
“Just – a bit – _further_ ,” Draco managed out, choking as he tried frantically to keep them all safe, the flames back and find the way out all at once. He kept Severus’s body floating close behind to keep him safe from the falling wreckage and the flames, swearing when the fire spat spitefully his way, singeing his flesh. He felt Harry’s arms tighten around his neck. He wanted to tell Harry is would be alright, but the last lungful of air he had strived for was all but gone.  
  
 _Come on_! He urged himself. He had lived here for over twenty-one years; he could get through this with his eyes closed!  
  
The floor rumbled ominously below their feet, the very foundations shaking as the house seemed to cling to its structure, struggling to hold up for them as if had done for generations. _But no more_ , Draco thought, all nostalgia and mawkishness evaporating like the flames he targeted, making way in the wake of his determination. He would get them all out. _Alive_.  
  
It was tricky to navigate the corridors with Harry on his back and Severus floating behind him, his legs burned as he struggled to hasten his steps. Faster, they needed to move _faster_. But suddenly, a whiff of life-giving air filtered through the muggy, heavy smog, breathing hope into him. They were almost out! He sped up a little now. His entire body groaned under the pressure as he worked his way through the disintegrating mansion.  
  
Then, ahead of him, a light broke the heavy fog. The smoke was furling up out of the hole in the wall that used to be the front door. “Almost there,” Draco groaned, spluttering and choking, not having dared to spare the time or the magic to cast a bubble-headed charm on himself. Regardless, they were nearly there, nearly free from this nightmare. He could feel the tears of relief filling his eyes, the cool air from outside brushing over his cheeks. Closer and closer, until finally…  
  
“Harry! Severus! Draco! Oh, thank Merlin!” Narcissa cried, running toward them. Draco fell forwards in the grass along with Harry, breathless, but alive. Smiling. And then, he laughed.  
  
Narcissa flew to their side, at a loss for whom to go to first especially with the baby in her arms. Harry took pity on her, sitting up slowly from where he and Draco had fallen, disentangling himself from his husband and reaching for his wailing daughter. “Give her to me, you should try and heal Severus as best as you can before sending a patronus with a message to St. Mungo’s for help.”  
  
Seemingly glad for the direction, the woman gave a shaky nod, evidently having been going mad waiting for them and pressed Lilium into Harry’s arms before turning to examine her future husband.  
  
“Ssssh!” Harry hushed Lilium softly, caressing her curls for a moment while leaning closer to Draco. He held her close to his chest. “You’re safe now, we’re all safe,” he breathed, wincing, his heart aching with the way her cries hitched with choking noises. A small, relieved laugh filled his ears then. He looked to the side, seeing the sun bathing his husband’s sooty face, his hair fanned out over the grass under his head like a blond halo. He knew that laugh, for it was rich and no little hysterical, powered by sheer relief. It was done, after years of torment, of anxiety, of darkness, the sun had finally broken through.  
  
The manor was burning to the ground a little way away and Harry’s chest felt tight at the thought of the first real home he’d had since Hogwarts reduced to rubble. However, he was sure magic could restore it to at least half its former glory. And across the grass, he could just make out the sight of the dozen house elves scrambling out the side door of the kitchen with a trail of belongings floating along behind them, including, what looked like Harry’s old school trunk.  
  
His body swayed ominously again and he lay back slowly in the grass beside Draco. Rubbing Lilium’s back in slow circles to soothe her, he rolled into the warmth of Draco’s side, laying his head on his shoulder. “We’re alright,” he said again huskily, breathing the clean air in deeply in an attempt to stay conscious. He felt like he could sleep for a week, but he refused to pass out until they were all somewhere comfortable and truly safe. The kitten ambled across the grass, settling on Draco’s stomach as if demanding recompense for their absence and her ordeal.  
  
“We’re alright,” Harry repeated. This was now for Draco more than Lilium, who was already calming slowly in between his and Draco’s bodies.  
  
Draco turned his head to him then and Harry was taken aback by how bright his eyes were with the sheen of tears. They were torn between heartache and relief, he realised and he shuffled closer, wincing at the pain throbbing through his body. But it was worth it as he rested his head against Draco’s in the grass, breathing his scent in along with the comforting breeze. They were all in shock, he knew, but he knew as well, now more than ever, that it was all going to be alright now.  
  
“It’s alright,” he breathed, cradling Lilium with one arm and reaching up with the other to sweep Draco’s golden locks from his face, caressing his cheek gently as he did so in subtle reassurance of his presence, his warmth. Like a kiss with his entire body. “We’re going to be alright, now.”  
  
With Narcissa calling for aid and fussing over Severus, all that was left to do was watch as the smoke and flame slowly eased from the manner. They sat together, side-by-side, oddly happy at last, even if their home was still smoking. They had lost a lot, even if the elves had managed to salvage some personal items, but that didn't matter because they were alive and they had one another.  
  
Draco reached his arm behind Harry's shoulder and tugged him in, pressing their lips together. “Look at us,” Draco said. His eyes shining. “Look at our beautiful family. My scrawny yet delectable husband and my gorgeous daughter. Not forgetting my mother and Severus… We are so lucky…despite…despite everything; I've never felt happier in all my life.” Draco laughed softly. The situation was wretched indeed, considering he had just lost his family home. But for the first time in his life, he felt revitalised, almost reborn. He felt free.  
  
“It’s finally over. We can look to the future now, knowing we actually _have_ a future. We can wake up every morning for the rest of our lives knowing that no matter what anyone does or says, no matter how stressful things might become, it will be alright. Because we're alive and we have something worth living for.”  
  
Harry seemed speechless at his words. Draco was never really sentimental or overemotional but it was nice to hear his sentiments now and again. Especially now, when they _both_ needed it most. Slowly he lay back beside his husband again, taking hold of his hand.  
  
The crack of apparation and the sound of frantic voices signalled the arrival of the Weasleys, who Narcissa had called to take them both in until they were coherent enough to find somewhere to stay. At the back of his mind, Harry thought that none of the other Black or Malfoy estates could be habitable, for them maybe, but not for little Lilium or an ailing Snape, once he escaped St. Mungo’s. Which they’d both refused to be dragged off to. They didn’t need care, after all, so much as a good night’s sleep. _Or a good week’s sleep_ , Harry’s mind supplied as he handed Lilium and Spinks to Hermione and Ron, leaning on Draco heavily for a moment. Perhaps they’d figure that out later, when their minds were no longer reeling from the chaos, from the trauma.  
  
 _Whatever happens,_ he thought, squeezing Draco’s hand to hold them both together as Arthur Weasley apparated them back to the Burrow. _We’ll decide together._  
  
Even with his vision jerky and his legs unsteady again, Harry still could not help but smile as he made out the shaky outline of the Burrow. Draco bore most of his weight as he stumbled into the warm kitchen. “Don’t worry, Ron,” Harry chuckled giddily, “We won’t diddle in your room.”  
  
“Too right,” Ron griped, “You’re both staying in Percy’s old room!” He declared good-naturedly. Harry laughed a little more, but then his body swayed. He felt Draco’s warm arms encircle him, his breath on his cheeks, evidently saying something. But he could not make it out. He just smiled exhaustedly, closing his eyes and letting the exhaustion take him into the welcoming blackness.  
  
* * *  
  
Without opening his eyes, Harry knew he wasn’t in his generous bed at the manor. There was a breeze that wouldn’t be there if he was in his and Draco’s bed with the thick drapes around it, a distant noise from downstairs somewhere that wouldn’t be heard in the great expanse of the manor. And then it all came flooding back with a sharp jolt. His body flinched at the memory of the explosion his magic had caused. His eyes flew open then and he immediately reached out his hand, searching the side of the bed blindly and finding his wand and glasses.  
  
“ _Lumos_!” He cried suddenly, shoving his glasses roughly onto his face. To his relief, a generous light glowed at the wand’s tip. He still had his magic! Thank Merlin! He didn’t know what the curse Lucius had used was, but he couldn’t have been certain he’d still have magic; he exhaled heavily in relief to find he did.  
  
Coming awake more after that sharp pang of panic, Harry realised he was in a small double bed at the Burrow. Lilium was fast asleep beside him, swaddled in blankets with Spinks dozing beside her almost protectively. Draco stood by the window across from them, his figure silhouetted against the glaring brightness of the moon outside, his face twisted with a mix of amusement and confusion. “Thought you’d forgotten how?” Draco asked, amused. Harry scowled at that raised brow.  
  
“ _Nox_!” He muttered, sitting a little further up in the bed, slowly so as not to wake Lilium. Ignoring Draco’s comment for the moment, Harry stared around the room. It was obviously a guest room now as it was sparsely decorated and illuminated only with two lamps, one by either side of the bed – evidently dimmed for Harry and Lilium while they slept. Glancing down at the end of the bed, however, his eyes widened as he saw his old trunk with a few trinkets of his, Draco’s and Lilium’s balanced on top.  
  
“Eric and the others saved a few of our things?” He murmured quietly, a small smile touching his lips. “We’ll have to thank them. It’s funny how important a few possessions can be, hmm?” When he got no reply, he looked to Draco, who was still glaring over at him, his stormy eyes glistening in the darkness, his arms folded from where he sat on the window-seat. “What’s the matter?” Harry asked, sitting up a little straighter. “Is everyone…? Is Snape alright?”  
  
For a moment, that same vacant stare and then…  
  
“He’s fine; they’re keeping him in a bit longer. Mother will stop by later to discuss our accommodation for the time being while they rebuild the manor. But in any case…don’t you have something to apologise for?”  
  
Harry frowned. “Apologise?”  
  
Draco scowled. “You disappeared, without me knowing! You took Lilium and vanished!”  
  
Harry flinched at his raised voice, casting a charm to restrict the inevitable shouting to his ears only. In the chaos, he hadn’t even realised Draco had _known_ he’d gone! “I…I didn’t think you’d have time to notice. I thought I’d be back before you knew it. I…I just thought that…”  
  
“You thought I wouldn’t notice my own spouse and child had disappeared!” Draco snarled, “Am I such a poor father?”  
  
Harry winced and said nothing, but at least had the good grace to look ashamed.  
  
“So, what was so important that you had to sneak off?!” Draco demanded hotly when he felt Harry had suffered a good deal in silence under the full-force of his glare. “Do you even know how worried I was, you blinding idiot?!” His cheeks were glazed with a fierce red. Harry seemed to be wide-eyed at his reaction but again, couldn’t find the words to justify his actions. Infuriated, Draco turned his gaze back to the dark realm of countryside beyond the window. Leaning against the sill there, he waited for an answer. “Well? What was it?”  
  
He heard Harry get up from the bed but he refused to look at him. He heard his footsteps come closer and felt his warmth beckon him, tempt him to surrender, but he still refused to turn. That was until Harry reached him and forced him to spin on his heel, tugging his arm so hard he had no choice but to face him. He stared furiously at his husband for a moment, still waiting for a reply. The only answer he received was the sight of Harry slowly lowering himself onto one knee.  
  
“What the bloody hell are you doing? You think sucking me off is going to distract me? I want answers, get up!”  
  
Harry flinched at the harshness in Draco’s voice, his breath coming out in nervous little wheezes as he forced his head back, his eyes staring into Draco’s. “I’m not going to suck you off,” Harry said firmly, his cheeks blazing, tugging Draco’s arm so that the blond was yanked into a seating position on the window seat. “And about disappearing like that, I…I didn’t think really. I admit it, I was stupid. I should’ve known you’d be worried if by any chance you found us gone. I was just…” His tongue flickered over his lips while he sought the right words and his nerve beneath the anxiety that swelled in his chest. His bones still ached but he felt healthier, _stronger_ now that he had rested. Strong enough for _this_ even…  
  
“I was just set in what I had to do, you know? I…I wanted to give you something…”  
  
“A panic attack?” Draco snarled, glancing away almost sulkily, even though he remained physically still.  
  
Harry scowled up at him. “No,” He replied stiffly. “Something…something that proved my feelings about you – _you_ not our situation, or Lilium or anything else. Something physical for you to see and _know_ that I love you. Like you’ve given me.” Harry’s hand gestured vaguely up to the illumiglass that sparkled in the diminutive light, glowing faintly to show his nervousness. That and the wedding band on his own finger, his daughter’s very existence, they were all tribute to the fact that Draco cared. Harry wanted to give him something back at last.  
  
“I…I don’t want to just take and take without giving you…something in return. Something that shows…well, you know…” His cheeks suffused with colour and he cleared his throat then, his hand slipping into his pocket. Thank heavens he was wearing the same clothes he had passed out in…  
  
Slowly, he drew his hand back, gritting his teeth in an attempt to stop it shaking. He felt like a right pillock, down on one knee in front of his petulant husband, who thought he was offering a blowjob. He raised his hands then, opening the small velvet box. The moonlight reflected off of the flawless, platinum surface of the ring within. It was simple and elegant but inlaid with complex protective charms and spells. Beautifully simple on the outside, complex once you looked deeper. _Just like Draco_ , he thought, smiling fondly as he lifted the ring a little to draw Draco’s eyes back to him.  
  
“I…err…oh, blimey…” Harry whispered under his breath, his heart thudding wildly in his chest. “I love you, Draco. I want to do this again, _properly_ without any confusion or mixed feelings. Will you marry me, again?”  
  
Draco's mocking smile vanished and his eyes went glassy and wide. “What…?” For the first time in his life, Harry saw Draco dumbstruck. Finally leaning down, Draco plucked the ring from the box, holding it between his two fingers and looking at Harry through it. Forcing his hand to stop shaking, he demoted his current, simple wedding band to his other hand, carefully replacing it with the one Harry now offered. Taking the box from his husband’s hand at last, he set it aside on the windowsill.  
  
“This ring is bloody gorgeous,” He said, taking pity on his husband at last. He moved the ring this way and that, watching it glisten shamelessly, the moonlight that streamed in through the window dancing across every facet.  
  
Suddenly, his hands shot down to Harry's collar and he tugged him upwards hard, slamming their lips together. “Y-Yeah… _Yes_ , I'll marry you,” He breathed. Forcing his tongue past those soft lips, he tasted every tender recess of that mouth, devouring Harry’s groans, his breath, everything he was. It was their first real kiss since they had nearly lost each other and it overwhelmed their senses, leaving them both gasping as their mouths parted. But even as the kiss ended, Draco grasped him tightly against him, afraid he might just be dreaming.  
  
“I'll marry you!” He said again, panting heavily.  
  
Harry beamed breathlessly as Draco broke the kiss in need of air, his entire body so light he swore he’d blow away. He wrapped his arms around Draco’s neck, sliding onto the generous window seat beside him, practically wrapping himself around his body. His mouth pressed to Draco’s briefly then, before trailing down to shower the pale column of his throat with kisses. He traced the fine shape of his jaw with his lips, until his mouth came to rest against that slightly flushed ear and he smiled again, closing his eyes and just allowing his breath (broken by a small, contented chuckle) to breeze over Draco’s ear.  
  
“That’s it? No snide remarks, no sarcasm, no more being angry with me?” Harry teased, cracking open an eye to see his husband purposefully moving his left hand so that the moonlight played with the surface of the ring. When all was said and done, even if you had everything in the world, a carefully chosen gift such as that could make a magpie of anyone. He saw a blush dust Draco’s cheeks and pulled him tighter against him, Draco was renowned for his smart mouth and always having an answer or a double-edged reply to anything. For once, he had been rendered speechless.  
  
“You must’ve either really wanted that ring or really wanted to marry me again,” Harry chuckled good-naturedly. “Am I so irresistible, love?”  
  
“Now you mention it, I did really want to try the ring on,” Draco teased. Harry thumped him gently in false reprimand. “You know you’ve always been irresistible to me,” Draco concluded, holding his best friend, his lover, his husband in his arms. “I'm so happy.” It was a simple statement but it made them both grin giddily, the moon painting their faces with its white, tranquil bliss, greeting them both with this dazzling new beginning.  
  
Harry looked into his eyes then, committing that beautiful, honestly carefree expression to memory, so that whatever happened next, he would always remember the pure happiness they could reach when they faced the world together. There would always be problems, trouble, being who they were, there was no doubt about that. But they could overcome it, together.  
  
“Me too,” Harry agreed, pressing his lips to Draco’s and melting into his body. His tongue slid out to trace the lush shape of his husband’s lips before slipping between and tasting his mouth, tasting his happiness and grinning as he heard a small gasp of surprise. He pressed in tighter to him, rocking his hips into Draco’s softly and groaning into his mouth at the contact. “Love you,” Harry breathed, diving in to take his lips between words, tasting every inch of his mouth so forcefully Draco’s head was tipped back with the pressure. “Really love you.” His hand reached up to knot in blond locks then and he drew back wetly from the kiss, with a devilish grin crossing his features, his eyes shining.  
  
“Still want that blowjob, _husband_?” Harry teased.  
  
Draco cocked his brow, it had been a while. In fact he had only just realised that _this_ was the special evening Harry had planned when he had told him to wait. Although he had, no doubt, planned it differently. “You really think I'm going to say no?” He purred, pulling Harry's hips into his own so that Harry was straddling his lap. He kissed him deeply again, pushing his tongue back inside to worship that mouth, it seemed to be all he wanted to do right now. His hands slipped over those sides and up under his shirt, over Harry's bare hips. He smiled softly, appreciatively.  
  
“For being pregnant and giving birth, your body is pretty much exactly the same as before, maybe in even better in shape,” Draco murmured, touching him unrestrainedly. His hands gripped those hips and ran over that back, grazing him lightly with his nails until Harry shivered with delight. Draco smirked. “Hmm…yes I’d still like that blowjob, _husband_.”  
  
Harry’s grin widened at his words and his fingers knotted in Draco’s shirt and he cast a glance back to the bed before sliding down his husband’s body, nipping and licking at his throat. “Hmm, be quiet though, don’t wake Lilium or the cat up,” he mused against that soft skin, even though his silencing spell from before would defend their slumber. Harry hurried to remove the barriers of cloth between them then, tugging slightly at the buttons of Draco’s shirt in his haste to get to that smooth expanse of skin. A groan left his lips and he arched into Draco’s hands when they glided over his hips and his arse over and over.  
  
“I’m glad,” Harry panted, laying his mouth on the now exposed collarbone and grazing it with his teeth. “Glad you like what I look like still.”  
  
The window seat was a little awkward but that just gave him more excuse to shift and roll his hips into Draco’s leg, humping it with little jerks and grinding his stomach against Draco’s own throbbing erection. He could feel how hot he was even through their clothes. “Come on, Mr Malfoy,” Harry breathed, mouthing a dusty pink nipple greedily, loving the way Draco’s chest rose with frantic breaths as he caught the bud between his teeth and lathed the tip gently inside his mouth.  
  
Draco reluctantly paused in his explorations of Harry’s flesh and unbuttoned his shirt, pulling him close and nipping at his neck in return. He tugged at Harry's trousers while Harry unzipped his. Slowly but carefully, he drew his tongue downward until Harry had slipped back to the floor beneath them. His hands wrestled with Draco's expensive belt and Draco chuckled quietly. “I should stop wearing such complicated trousers, shouldn't I?” He joked, the words seeming to make Harry even more determined to be rid of them.  
  
Slowly the belt came undone and Draco gasped, heat pulsating from that erect organ as it throbbed hungrily for Harry’s touch.  
  
“Maybe just sit around in your underpants,” Harry laughed softly, rubbing at Draco’s pulsing prick with his warm palm as he tugged those trousers down to his husband’s ankles, underwear and all. He groaned as that thick erection jerked up under his chin, straining for attention. Tossing Draco’s trousers and boxers to the side he grasped the thick, flushed flesh, stroking it slowly, rolling the foreskin back teasingly with his thumb to expose the pink tip.  
  
“Bloody hell, I… Why do I feel… _nervous_ almost?”  
  
“I’m nervous too,” Harry assured him, squeezing his erection with one hand while the other snuck up his husband’s pale, perfect torso in a loving caress. “It’s the first time since Lilium,” he said. They had both lost their bodily confidence since that time, Draco due to the scars Lucius had inflicted when they had faced him the night Lilium was born, Harry because of the natural changes. But they could do this; overcome even these personal hurdles together.  
  
Draco’s hand reached around to cup his nape, stroking the short hair at the back of his head reassuringly, the way Harry was his chest. Silently they admired each other’s skin, learning each other again, reassuring each other and wiping away the lingering insecurities. It would take awhile to be confident in themselves, but it was all part of the journey they were undertaking together.  
  
With a nervous grin, Harry leant down, rubbing his cheek subtly along the length of Draco’s arousal, relishing the low groan that left his husband’s lips. He repeated the movements, rubbing his cock with his face unrestrainedly as he whispered, “Hmm, I’ve missed this…missed being this close to you, with no boundaries between us, not even clothes.”  
  
Suddenly, Draco’s fingers tightened in his hair, yanking his head back away from his cock. Harry’s mouth opened with a little gasp, the only sound he could manage before his mouth was being ravaged by Draco’s. His hands shot up to knot in Draco’s hair, holding him desperately to his lips as he felt every inch of him taken by Draco’s hunger. But as Draco’s fingers tried to work the buttons of his own shirt, Harry tore himself away.  
  
With green eyes, glazed with pleasure, he held Draco’s gaze, climbing to his feet and stepping closer so that he was standing with his legs either side of one of Draco’s. He smirked, slowly reaching up and undoing his top few buttons, swaying his hips slightly as he did so. “Remember that night when I came home a little bit tipsy?” He breathed huskily, eyes darkened with lust.  
  
If there was one way to fast track their confidence retrieval it was something adventurous. He dipped his body to place his mouth a mere hairsbreadth from Draco’s then, his voice low and drifting over Draco’s lips as he whispered, “You said I didn’t know how to give a lap dance.” He grinned as Draco groaned at the memory. “Why don’t I give it another go before you get that blowjob?”  
  
A glint shot through Draco's eyes and red tinted his cheeks. They glowed warmly. He just smiled. He had no words as Harry climbed on top of him. He felt almost embarrassed. “Bet you’re still rubbish,” he breathed out, awkwardly. His hands slid up Harry's back, however, brushing over his cool skin and sliding back down over his hips to steady him.  
  
“No hands!” Harry reminded, removing Draco's hands and placing them beside him. Draco gripped the surface of the window seat tensely, watching as Harry began to sway himself in a way he never knew possible. “Fine. No hands,” Draco agreed. Though the need to touch him rushed through his every pore, making it so difficult to actually heed to that request.  
  
Harry smirked devilishly, setting his own hands on top of Draco’s wrists to hold him there and steadying himself in the process. He slid his arse back up against Draco’s cock, feeling it twitch against his skin through the fabric of his briefs. He heard a sharp intake of breath from Draco and repeated the slow slide, just barely touching their skin together. He rolled his hips to an imaginary beat, feeling Draco’s arms tense in the desire to touch him. His own cock hardened in his briefs, desperate for touch.  
  
The last time he had done this they had both been such radically different people; it was almost frightening to think of how much they’d changed in that time. “How does that feel, Mr Malfoy?” Harry panted, thin globules of sweat rolling over his flushed flesh as he grinded into his husband’s crotch.  
  
When Harry got that delicious smirk, Draco couldn't control himself. It was tempting and teasing and it got to him in every possible way. He let out a huge groan as that voice sliced through him in sensual motions. “Hmmnnn,” he groaned. With eyes filled with lust, need. "Come on, Harry, y-you can do better then that, can't you?” he tried. But why he was finding it hard to tease him as usual? He didn't know. There was a lump in his throat. Almost choking him. This moment. They were alive. And Harry was here.  
  
It seemed unbelievable after everything, that someone like him be allowed to have what he wanted. A wave of emotion swept over him. He felt so happy. “Come on…show me…”  
  
“Yes…” Harry hissed softly, “ _Master_ ,” that word clearly sent Draco’s blood rushing down to his burgeoning erection. “Your wish is my command.” Harry spun around to face him then, gazing intently into those grey eyes, darkened with arousal and shining with the diminutive light. Rolling his hips up into Draco’s stomach, he felt Draco’s every muscle tense in anticipation, in _want_ – wanting that pressure just a scarce few inches lower.  
  
“Do you like me rutting against you like this?” Harry demanded, still pinioning Draco’s arms down but finding it increasingly difficult with every intentionally ‘misplaced’ thrust into Draco’s stomach. “Like a sex-starved deviant? Or would you prefer…” He paused, this time rocking into that taut, tensed stomach painfully slow, so that he could feel every contour against his needy cock. He groaned through his teeth, eyes rolling into the back of his head. “W-Want…want me to press my cock against yours? _Sir_?”  
  
Draco's head swung side-to-side on his shoulders. Tingles riveting through him, over his spine all the way down to the tips of his toes. “Fuck… _Harry_ , Merlin!” He so wanted to touch him. His hands moved up unconsciously and swept Harry's head closer. But Harry refused to allow their lips to touch and Draco groaned, frustrated. “Please?!”  
  
Harry's lips curved up. Draco was _begging him_? He shifted beneath Harry, wriggling.  
  
“Touch me. Please. I can't take this!”  
  
“Good gracious, Sir, you’re being awfully familiar with me,” Harry teased, his breath dancing provocatively over Draco’s lips. “Whatever do you think you have to tempt me? You know very well no touching is allowed!” He watched Draco’s entire being tense, drawn taut like a bowstring and he groaned at the sight, leaning up on his toes to undulate against the length of Draco’s body in a slow rhythm. He rocked into his body, sliding down, down until his cock was rolling up into Draco’s leg and his mouth was lightly skimming his purpled erection.  
  
“Hmm, very tempting,” he all-but purred over the swollen head, his tongue darting out to taste the globule of clear pre-emission gathered at the tip. “You seem tense,” he chuckled, panting against his husband’s crotch, nosing into his light blond curls. It was so thrilling to feel at home in his body again, the unleash his passions and desires on Draco, to feel that confidence grow with every squirm of pleasure Draco gave. “Tell me what you want me to do?”  
  
"Oh God!” Draco groaned. “Suck it, please… Please… I need it!” He cried. He shifted his body down slightly, allowing his throbbing organ to bounce under Harry's chin. “Please!” He begged again. His need was vibrant and strong. He needed him so much. He felt Harry's lips brush over the tip occasionally, the wet warm saliva drizzling down and making him shudder under every rivulet. “Need it…need you…make it hard and wet and then slide yourself on me. Harry, please?!”  
  
Harry felt his own body groan with desire, wanting everything Draco had pleaded for. And Draco’s voice, husky and rough with need, _begging him_ , it was too much to bear. It made his skin _hum_. “Yes,” Harry answered breathily. “Everything. You’ll have everything you want, my spoiled little prince.” He laughed softly, before bathing the thick, dark vein at the underside of Draco’s cock with his tongue, feeling his cock twitch in answer. He knew all of his husband’s sensitive places by now.  
  
 _And I have many more years to treasure them, to treasure him._  
  
“I’ll make this cock nice and wet so it just _glides_ down my throat,” he could _see_ and _feel_ the effect his words were having on Draco’s body, see the tensed skin and muscle, see the glow of sweat and flush alike colouring his skin. “Perfect,” he said, without realising he’d said it aloud. Everything about Draco was perfect. His fingers danced up over that torso, absently tracing his fading scars with loving caresses while he took the leaking tip of his cock between his lips. He sucked softly and above him, Draco cried out.  
  
“Ahh!”  
  
Harry’s lips smoothed down over his cock smoothly. It felt incredible. His slow but deep motions were sending jolts of electric pleasure through him. “Amazing! So-so amazing!” He felt so lost for words. He swore Harry had stolen his ability to speak. He couldn't find the right responses, the words to say, there was nothing that described these feelings. Nothing even came close. He felt so content, so hot and flustered and happy with everything. He felt so alive.  
  
“Please…make me cum, Harry, I need to cum. I'll go mad if you make me wait!”  
  
He needed it so badly. Needed it now. Harry's lips stroked up and down his organ slowly, slicking up his sleek member until it was literally dripping. He knew Harry needed to warm it up enough before he could make his entrance. But he wasn't sure how much more he could take! He was losing himself in it. In Harry.  
  
Harry stared up at him, drinking in every wonderful inch with his mouth full of that thick meat. His middle finger on his right hand met the place where his mouth was wrapped around him, moistening the digit before sliding down to that wrinkled crevice. He felt the tight, full weight of Draco’s balls, rubbing them slowly with his free hand while his finger on the other teased the puckered entrance. Reluctantly, he lifted his head off of Draco’s cock to speak, never glancing away from his face.  
  
“Do you think you can manage two rounds?” Harry teased. “I want you to cum once in my mouth and once in my arse.” He put pressure on his finger as if to illustrate the fact, the digit sliding in slickly. He curled his finger, massaging that tender bundle of nerves that made Draco’s cock arch under his chin, desperate to be back in his mouth. The milky, slender thighs either side of him tensed and spread wider, welcoming him deeper. Harry grinned, dipping his head so that when he spoke next, his lips grazed the sensitive skin just under the helmet.  
  
“Can you handle that?” He asked provocatively.  
  
“Fuck!” Draco gasped, nodding vigorously. Harry's fingers pushed the skin around his cock down with a harsh stroke, revealing the purple-red end. “Y-Yes, of course I can!” He grunted. “The question is, can you handle me?” Draco glared then, his eyes dark with passion and fire, making his Harry quiver beneath it. Those fiery lips traced the edge of his cock, teasing and tugging at the tight skin there. “Hmmn, make me cum. Once, twice…I don't care. I'll cum as much as you want, just make it happen!”  
  
Harry wanted to smile but his mouth was otherwise occupied and he settled for mouthing the tender tip softly, pressing the point of his tongue into the weeping slit. He made a hungry, needy groan in his throat, letting the vibrations carry through the hot, turgid organ in his grasp. Slowly, he lowered his mouth, lapping at the underside with his tongue while he swallowed him deeply.  
  
He closed his eyes, breathing carefully through his nose as he felt Draco’s tip hit the back of his throat. He swallowed, the sensations carrying through the thick column of heat and making Draco cry out with pleasure, his fingers grazing Harry’s shoulders and neck encouragingly. Prevented from speaking, Harry murmured softly again, swallowing and sucking hungrily, his finger tormenting Draco’s pleasure-spot vigorously.  
  
They hadn’t done this in so long, it felt so _good_! So good, that Harry found himself grinding his own arousal into Draco’s leg.  
  
“Hmm, that’s it suck it. _Merlin_ , Harry, more…deeper…please…need more of you…” Draco raised his legs back so that Harry had a better view of his lower area, spelled smooth apart from the nest of blond curls at the base of his cock. As always. “Lick me, not…not just my cock, everywhere. My arse, my hole, eat all of me!” Draco demanded, his golden locks scattering across his face as he thrashed.  
  
Harry’s hands reached to steady his legs, pinning him tightly as he moved to obey.  
  
“That’s it... _Merlin_!” He heard Draco cry as he pressed his tongue against the tight skin at his entrance, lapping at the twitching flesh there, before sinking into it. Yes. He surged deeper, his wet, pink tongue wriggling inside of him.  
  
“More!” He heard from above.  
  
Harry gave him more. He stretched the tight little entrance open further, spearing the pink ring with his tongue, brutally tasting every crevice. Shameful, slurping sounds reached his ears, that was him, the sound of him devouring Draco and he didn’t care. He reached up with his free hand, tugging back Draco’s foreskin and stroking him confidently, squeezing until he felt the column of heat give an answering throb.  
  
“That’s it,” Harry panted, “I feel you twitching around my tongue, under my hand. So dirty, I love it. Every inch of you. _Amazing_. I love you.” He circled his tongue around the tender, stretched rim, flickering back and forth, back and forth until Draco’s flesh was dripping with his saliva and Draco himself was squirming for his release. “That’s it, you enjoy it. Cum for me, all over me, you get two turns tonight. Come on…”  
  
Harry's tone, his words, his _tongue_! It was all part of the magic.  
  
“Merlin, you should be like this more often. I love it when you’re so raw and dirty, treating me like this…” He admitted, his voice breaking off in passion towards the end. “Need you…need us…make me cum! Just keep going!” Draco rested his legs against Harry's shoulders as his dark-haired lover pressed his lips over that organ once again and swallowed it deep. He hissed when he felt the tip of his cock hit the back of Harry's throat, those glands squeezing the end.  
  
 _That’s it_ , Harry thought, curling his finger back in to torture Draco’s prostrate as he bobbed his head over him, sucking and slurping at him hungrily, like a man half-starved. He felt Draco’s balls tighten, heard him draw in breath sharply, as if trying to prolong the moment. He swallowed again, his throat muscles clenching tightly around Draco’s glans. He felt the explosion begin and drew back a fraction to catch his release in his mouth.  
  
“That’s it, cum for me, let me taste it!” Harry panted before hastily swallowing him down again with a shamefully loud, wet slurp. He wanted to feel him coming undone underneath him as he hadn’t in what felt like forever.  
  
“God! Keep sucking. Keep sucking!” Draco gasped. With his lips parted, sweet saliva drizzled from the corner of his mouth. He was panting, gasping for breath under the glow of the moonlight shining in through the window, painting their bodies.  
  
“So close now,” he gasped, while Harry's lips pumped rhythmically over him, moving faster with every stroke. Draco's balls slapped into his chin each time he reached the base, adding to the debauched sounds filling the room. His rhythm slowed every now and then, however, as if to tease, to prolong that pleasure and morph it into something even sweeter.  
  
Suddenly, Draco arched into Harry’s mouth. His fingers clawed at his shoulders, his toes scraping at Harry’s hips as he soared towards his completion, bursting in Harry’s mouth. Harry groaned, swallowing eagerly and then drawing back slowly to survey his husband’s panting, sweaty body. He grinned at the sight of him, flushed and debauched, thoroughly ravished with his cock resting half-hard on his belly.  
  
Stumbling to his feet, Harry shimmied out of his briefs, his own erection slapping back up against his stomach, hard and wanting, with a dribble of pre-emission sliding from the slit. He gave Draco a wicked look from beneath his lashes before turning and plucking his wand from the side. A flick of his wrist and the rug transformed itself into a luxurious mattress with a surround of pillows. He cast Draco a glance over his shoulder, before crawling onto it. They didn’t want to disturb Lilium and Spinks, but that didn’t mean they had to rut on the rug either. What was magic for, after all?  
  
Rolling onto his back, Harry spread his legs, beckoning Draco closer. “Want to start round two?” He breathed, reaching down to leisurely stroke himself, plucking at his pierced nipple almost absently. Draco stood shakily, still seemingly hazy after his climax, and made his way towards the mattress where Harry lay. No sooner had his knees hit the mattress, however, than Harry had reached for him. His arm hooked around his nape, tugging him down flush against his body.  
  
“Yes!” Harry hissed out his delight, arching up into Draco’s body, riding him with slow, deliberate undulations. “Oh! Baby…love… _more_!”  
  
Draco’s hand found his leaking prick then and he cried out, his toes tearing at the mattress, his head flying back into the pillows with wanton abandon. They hadn’t been like this in so long and now it was almost too much, almost overwhelming with how good it was. “M-Missed…missed you…this…your hands, your hair…you bloody _voice_ , oh shit!” He threw his head to the side, grinding his cock into Draco’s hand. “M-More, _please_! Want…want to feel you, _all over_!”  
  
Draco smiled. It wasn't a smirk, or one filled with a devious smugness. Just a smile. A normal, but devilish smile. It sent chills all over Harry. Their chests glittered, as if their magic were glowing under their skin. Draco leant over him then and their chests met. Grinding his hand into Harry’s cock, awarding him that delicious friction, Draco, slid his other hand under Harry’s back to cradle him closely. He bowed over him, whispering in his ear.  
  
“I don't want sex,” he said, confusing Harry, who frowned but allowed him to finish with, “I want to make love to you.”  
  
Harry’s lashes fluttered and he exhaled shakily, his vision glazed with liquid passion. Slow and unsteady with desire, his hands travelled the length of those arms wrapped around him, ghosting over the soft, hot flesh in a loving caress. “Yes,” Harry whispered eagerly. “Make…make love to me…” His cheeks flushed hotly at the sound of that rolling off his tongue, but his embarrassment was knocked from him along with his breath as Draco spanned the gap between them, bringing their mouths together.  
  
“Hmmm!” The long, soft sound rumbled in his chest when he felt Draco pull him tight to his chest. He tilted his head, pressing deeper into the kiss, wanting to be closer, _deeper_. His fingers scraped gently at Draco’s nape, tugged at his hair while his hips rippled against him in a gentle, steady rhythm.  
  
Draco leant his head into Harry's shoulder, subtly breathing over his neck and the area of skin over his collarbone. Tenderly he placed kisses there. He felt the warm hum of their combined breaths and heartbeats radiate between his and Harry's chests, alighting in him a humble sort of flame. Controlled, purposeful in its burning and yet still blazing with desire. He brought his face round to Harry's then. He moved his own nose down along the length of Harry's with a small stroke (almost a nuzzle) until their lips came together.  
  
Every time they kissed, there had always been something so passionate behind it, a driving force like anger or fear. It felt nice to be subtle for once, nice to take Harry in this way, without a care in the world, without a second thought or a dark cloud hovering over him. He felt as though he could drown in this sweet oblivion.  
  
As he cradled his husband, Draco’s kiss grew deeper. He swept his tongue deep inside the cavern of that mouth where a taste of Harry's resided. He sought every drop of spittle then, sweeping it away into his own. He only wished he could taste him more than he was already, wished it were even physically _possible._  
  
Harry parted his lips eagerly, groaning gently into Draco’s mouth, drawing back only for frantic gasps of air before submitting to those kisses again. He felt his brain swirl with an overwhelming tenderness, felt it fog up his thoughts with Draco’s musky breath until he found himself rocking a little harder into his husband’s reawakening cock.  
  
Turning his head a little, Harry’s eyes fluttered shut when he felt the gentle flow of kisses sweep down his tense jaw. Those lips grazed over the tendons in his neck, worshipping his sweat-touched skin. That mouth chased the rivulets across the hard plains of his chest. Those arms still cradled him, arching his body up into the tongue that now flickered over his pierced nipple teasingly. At the same time, the fingers supporting his back scraped his skin gently, just enough to shock a gasp of pleasure from his kiss-bruised mouth.  
  
Everything was so slow, so gentle, it made Harry’s eyes water with the intensity.  
  
“L-Love you!” Harry whispered hoarsely, as if it were the world’s most precious secret, his voice lost to him momentarily. “L-Love…love all of me. I want…I want to feel you all over me.”  
  
Draco slid down; his arms gliding over his hips slowly as he carefully balanced Harry's legs on his shoulders, edging them backwards onto the bed of cushions with a small push. He glanced down to Harry's cock. It was pointing upwards in midair, wanting him. He could see the dark red end peering out of his foreskin, hot and heavy. Wanting a release. Draco's hands fixed on Harry's hips then and he grinded his bare cock up against that backside. Bare skin on skin, colliding with a delicate but mouth-watering friction.  
  
“L-Love…love you too…want to love all of you and more,” Draco breathed.  
  
Harry’s arse clenched in anticipation of being one with Draco’s body again, his every veins alight with the desire to feel him again. That thick, swollen organ slid along his crack deliciously, teasing him, promising what was to come. Impatient for more but basking in this slow love-making, Harry cracked open his eyes, staring blearily up at Draco through his lashes, seeing that gaze dark with want, his own cock hard and leaking, jerking with every rock of his hips.  
  
Licking his lips, Harry shifted his legs to hook them more comfortably over Draco’s shoulders, reaching round to pull Draco’s hips against his a little faster, a little harder. He reached up, wrapping his fingers around his own cock, desperate to release some of the throbbing intensity. One hand abandoned his hip to knock away his hand gently then and a little frustrated cry left his lips.  
  
“Hmm…you look _gorgeous_ , Harry,” Draco hissed. He had always said the most debauched things to Harry during sex, but… _beautiful_? It was perhaps one of the sweeter, tamer things he had ever said and yet it had Harry blushing more fiercely than ever before. While Harry lay beneath him, stunned into silence, Draco pressed in close. He rutted hard against Harry’s arse, his cock throbbing where it grinded into the valley of those cheeks.  
  
Slowly, Draco brought his hand up, spitting (quietly) onto his palm, making sure there was plenty of saliva there before using it to lubricate his cock and Harry’s entrance. Hastily he prepared him with a spell, before pressing his cock against that skin. He felt Harry shudder as his cock skimmed his sensitive opening.  
  
“You ready baby?” Draco asked.  
  
With a hasty nod, Harry’s tongue swept over his lips in anticipation, in eagerness and he let his body relax in the way he had long known how to do to accept Draco easier. “R-Ready,” he panted shakily. Too long, it had been _far_ too long. He needed to feel this closeness again. “Hurry up. I want to feel you…feel you stretching me.”  
  
Not so many months ago he would never have I imagined something so shameless could leave his lips. But then, he had never imagined this would be the source of such unrivalled bliss, being with Draco, _being Draco’s_. They had come so far, had been so lost but now…they’d found each other. Saved each other.  
  
A dull burning in his tight ring snapped him back from his reverie and Harry’s fingers scraped over Draco’s thighs, curling there in release of the intensity. His muscles stretched and gave way, embracing Draco’s thick arousal, swallowing him deeper, wanting more and _faster_. A low sound left Harry’s lips, and he forced his eyes to stay open so that he could watch Draco’s face even as his eyes tried to flutter closed at the sensations.  
  
“Oh…bloody… _hell_ , Draco! Feels so…so good! You feel amazing!” His toes curled over Draco’s shoulder where his legs hung limply. It was too much and yet not enough at the same time.  
  
Dark silver-grey eyes glistened behind the curtain of golden locks that hung over his face. They dazzled Harry as he watched them glow intensely, watched them flicker as Draco pushed his cock deeper into his slick chute below. Their skin throbbed deliciously as he did so.  
  
“Hmmn!” Draco groaned, his head hanging over Harry's. “I'll stretch you apart as slowly as possible so that I can watch you melt under me.” He punctuated his words by grinding forward at last, striking a fire deep inside of his lover with a nudge at his pleasure spot.  
  
“So tight, and hot and beautiful!” Draco grinned, and watched as Harry gasped deliriously beneath him. “Hold onto me,” he instructed. “If you have to claw your fingers into my back to keep a hold of me then I want you to, promise me while I’m taking you…you won't let me go?” Draco requested, his voice a little smokier and deeper than usual. Filled with emotion.  
  
Harry grinned, looping his arms around that neck, pulling himself up so that his body was near folded in half under Draco’s. The position felt tight but it only added to the pressure in his arse. He clenched purposefully around Draco’s erection, seizing a fist full of blond hair with one hand while the other scraped teasingly at Draco’s shoulders. He could feel every luscious pulse inside his tender chute. His jaw clenched at the white-hot pleasure rolling up from his belly, his own cock jerking where it was squeezed between them.  
  
Draco’s voice, it swept through his ears and filled him up with warmth, heated his skin with lust. His words, they made everything in his body clench tight, he didn’t know how long he’d last this time. “Been too long,” Harry whispered, straining his back to smash his lips against Draco’s, groaning into his mouth. It started then, the familiar, delicious push and pull of their bodies together, the rocking of his hips against Draco’s, trying to take in everything he was. “Come on…more, needed…needed this for so long!”  
  
But Draco had no intention of rushing this moment. He too had needed to be connected with lover again. But he wanted it to last this time – this first time, the beginning of the rest of their lives. He wanted to sink into every little twinge, surrender to every little feeling rushing over him.  
  
Slowly he jerked forwards, his movements narrated by debauched, juicy sounds from within. “Hmmm, _Harry_ ,” He said softly, still cradling his husband even as he clawed at him. Draco hissed in pleasure when those fingers scraped his skin, a little harder each time he moved within him. He could practically feel Harry's own cock, trapped between them, leaking over both of their stomachs.  
  
A tiny rivulet of sweat trickled down his husband’s face and Harry chased it with his tongue. He mouthed the hard shape of that jaw and taking an earlobe in his mouth. His arse rolled up into Draco’s slow, deep thrusts. Fevered flesh melted together. It honestly felt as if they were one person, their very breaths mingling. They were grinding together in a sensual dance Harry had been afraid they’d forget.  
  
“Better than magic,” he breathed, nipping at Draco’s throat, pursuing his pulse with his tongue and sucking harshly to make Draco buck into his body from the sheer, sharp burst of pleasure. He caught his sensitive flesh lovingly between his lips, lapping hungrily at him like a starved vampire. He was grinding into those hips voraciously, spiralling with him into the void of pleasure where nothing else could touch them.  
  
Harry gave a small, dazed laugh. They were free at last, no Lucius, no looking over their shoulders, no Dark Lord or his followers seeking to shatter their happiness. Just them and the people they cared about. Just life.  
  
“Oh, yes,” he panted, loving the way Draco’s throat began to bruise already from his intense kiss. He moved up to nip at those lips again, he groaned against him as his body arched up off of the mattress, those arms covering him lovingly. “So perfect.” Harry rolled his hips up into Draco _harder_ in confused pleasure, his body singing like a plucked instrument but still unsure whether to press back into that throbbing hardness or rub his own against Draco’s belly.  
  
Draco's nose buried itself into the soft curls by Harry's ear. He felt so close to him, so tightly bound to his very soul that his voice cracked with emotion as he whispered, “Are you happy, my husband?” His chest felt on fire where his heart thundered within madly. All those years spent obsessing, _needing_ , and now look, he had everything. Maybe it was always supposed to happen this way. Maybe everything they had faced and suffered before now was just a build up to their firework finish. And what a finish it was becoming. What a _beginning_.  
  
Dazedly Harry nodded in answer to his question and Draco smiled shamelessly at that. He lay fervent kisses down on that neck, his movements never faltering. “Hmm, feels so good to be inside of you. I feel so close to you, and we’re only going to get closer,” Draco promised solemnly. He had no boundaries anymore. He wasn't afraid or ashamed, or too proud to say anything to the one he loved. After almost losing him, he had discovered how easy a few heartfelt words were in comparison.  
  
“S-So…so happy,” Harry panted eagerly, arching his neck back to give Draco more room to kiss and mark his throat as they rocked together sinfully, their movements together hastening as the urge to seek completion swelled. “So happy, _Draco_ , I’m so… Love you, can’t wait to…to be with you every day…to d-do this, again and again.” His mouth was torn open with an almost anguished cry then as the hastening thrusts stabbed repetitively at his pleasure spots. White-hot ecstasy danced across his sweat-spotted skin, through his veins until his blood felt like lava pooling in his impossibly stiff prick.  
  
“L-Love you! More…come on. Love me more! N-Need…need more of you! Haven’t cum in so long…!”  
  
The blond moved faster, pushing his cock deeper into the grasp of those greedily clenching walls. “Mmmn, _deeper_. I'm loving you deeper, _more_!” He panted. He could feel Harry’s heart racing inside his chest, thudding against his own. He'd never felt so close to him as now, with the strain, the weight of the world finally lifted away. Every time they had sex, it always seemed better then the last, and this time was no exception. This was above and beyond all expectations.  
  
“I can feel it rising…feels so good,” Draco whispered as the fire of his orgasm brewed low in his groin.  
  
Harry’s nails sank into those shoulders a little deeper, pulling him down tight to his chest and holding him there as they undulated together, like waves on the surface of the ocean. The slapping noises of their bodies meeting grew louder then as their desperation grew. Their arousal soured. Harry’s cock was drooling pre-emission between their bodies, his arse clenching hungrily around Draco’s, squeezing, milking him for all he was worth.  
  
Pressing his face into Draco’s shoulder, he inhaled his scent, his shampoo, his sweat, the musky smell of sex clinging to his skin. He felt his mind swim with the fog of bliss, elevating him up and up, to heights not even the firebolt could take him alone. How many years it had taken him to find that Draco Malfoy was the person who could lift him up and hold him there, be with him there, together. Happily. He gave another small laugh of relief. This was how it was meant to be.  
  
Harry’s belly twisted as his orgasm built and he groaned through his clenched teeth, his every tendon drawn tight as a bowstring, waiting to let fly his climax like an arrow. “S-So close! Draco… _Draco_ …!” He felt that hot prick in his arse tense and move harder at the breathy whisper of his name. He smirked, turning his head a fraction so that his mouth hovered over Draco’s ear. “ _Draco_ ,” he panted again, “make me cum with you inside of me.”  
  
“Not yet. Hold on a little longer,” Draco hissed. Not much longer at all. His build was bolting like a rollercoaster right behind Harry's. He wanted them to finish in unison. _He needed to_. Ducking his head into Harry's again he kissed his cheek. His breathing was heavy now. Sweat swept across his forehead and it dripped down his nose when he tilted his head to join their lips.  
  
“Hmm, that’s it…” He parted Harry's lips with his tongue, staring deeply into his eyes as he mimicked the movements of their lower bodies with his mouth.  
  
“Feeling good for you?” Draco murmured against that mouth, smirking as Harry’s tongue darting out to tempt his back again playfully. The words were muffled, but Harry understood them. He had come to understand each and every one of Draco’s movements and ways.  
  
“So good,” Harry groaned into that mouth, impatient for release and yet longing for this to last an eternity at the same time. His limbs locked around Draco’s, holding him so close that the thrusts inside of him became short, sharp jabs at his prostrate. His insides were so hot, wet, clenching tightly and greedily around Draco with its own kiss. A gasp left his lips as Draco nipped the tip of his tongue, before circling the outline of his kiss-sensitised mouth with the very tip.  
  
Harry’s eyes rolled into the back of his head. Yes. This was perfection. “Feels so good,” Harry repeated senselessly, chasing after Draco’s tongue a moment later, devouring that mouth. He felt Draco’s hand come up to cradle his head before that entire body above pinned him to the plush mattress. He was trapped then, squashed between the comfort of the mattress and the hot, delicious warmth of Draco’s body, stimulating his flesh every place they connected – which was almost everywhere.  
  
“Y-Yes!” He panted, the breath crushed from his lungs with Draco’s brutal rocking thrusts, with the tight closeness of their interlocked limbs. “F-uck! Fuck me. N-N-eed – _need to_ …!”  
  
“Ahh!” Draco gasped. Harry's voice, his expressions, every drip of sweat and the smell if sex radiating from them. It was so surreal, so dazzling, this sheer bliss, that he felt as though he was drowning it in. His body was pressed tight against and around Harry's as they ascended towards their shared peak.  
  
“So close…so _close_!” Draco hummed against Harry. “Need to cum soon.” He could feel his entire body tensing. He tried to slow himself down to prolong the pleasure, but the thought only made his need that much greater. He couldn't control it, just like his thirst for Harry.  
  
The smouldering, whirling rise of his tornado of ecstasy thundered through his body. His was buzzing, bristled with goosebumps. A chilling sensation rushed over his hot, sweat-slicked body. His head swayed as he held his husband tight. “Are you close, Harry? Are you close?”  
  
“Y-Yes!” Harry managed out enthusiastically with what little breath filtered into his lungs. “Yes! Shit, Draco, _please_ , now. Need it. I – I need you. Want to – to cum with you inside of me!” His eyes slammed shut, clenched as every other muscle in his body, drawn tight on the precipice of explosion. He wanted that white-hot oblivion and he wanted to tumble into it with Draco. In and out. In and out. The movements inside his body were restricted by the frantic spasms of his entrance now, his stomach fluttering as he felt himself near the edge of that cliff. A few more simple movements and he’d cum whether he wanted it or not.  
  
“C-Cum with me! Draco! _Please_! C-Com…complete me!”  
  
At that, Draco groaned through clenched teeth. He could feel that telltale tingle flowing through him. “So close… _fuck_ …Harry I-I’m…” He moved faster then, desperate now. Static pleasure pierced his skin. The droplets of sweat combusted, sending him hurtling into the sweet abyss. “C-Cumming…!” He gripped Harry's shoulders tightly, pulling his body close so that every _breath_ contributed to the stimulation of the other.  
  
It happened then. His cock exploded in a blindingly white, wet oblivion. His climax painted the abused, pink flesh of his lover’s arse. Through his bliss, he felt Harry’s cock react to his end, the hard, purpled thickness pressing urgently into his stomach.  
  
“Cum…Harry, _cum_ ,” Draco purred, and he watched as Harry wriggled beneath him in pre-explosion.  
  
Draco’s voice caressed him like a gentle breeze, and yet pillaged him brutally, passionately at the same time. A groan of sheer, otherworldly pleasure ripped through Harry’s lips and he crashed his mouth to Draco’s as his body arched, spilling himself over his and Draco’s bellies.  
  
For a few minutes that felt like a blissful eternity, they lay panting, sweating and blissfully happy in each other’s embrace. Wrapped around each other as if they were trying to be one. They _were_ one. Harry turned his face to rest against Draco’s cheek and smiled breathlessly, laying a sloppy, exhausted kiss on his damp skin. “L-Love you,” he murmured, closing his eyes. He thought he could drop right off again right there. In Draco’s arms. _Always_ in Draco’s arms. He didn’t even know this kind of pure, unadulterated happiness existed. It was better than magic.  
  
Draco smiled breathlessly. “I love you too, baby, you complete me, more than anyone ever could.”  
  
Draco wasn't known for being particular sentimental, but he knew how to say the right thing when it mattered. And right now it mattered.  
  
 _If someone had tried to tell me that it was going to end up like this,_ Draco thought, _I’d have never believed them. There were so many times that I lost hope in the future. Any future. But Harry always kept me afloat. And I know he always will. He was probably the only one with the power to help me swim when I was sinking. He saved me and yet made me strong enough to save him at the same time, to save_ myself.  
  
Draco looked to his husband lovingly, seizing a blanket from the end of the bed and tugging it over them. Harry fell quietly to sleep then, still grinning like a fool wrapped in his embrace. And Draco fell on top of him, following his lead.  
  
This was better, stronger than spells and potions and hexes. This _was_ magic. Real magic. And would be, for a long, long time, no matter what they had to face – _together._ _  
  
  
 _~To Be Continued…__


	29. Epilogue

[Epilogue]  
  
  
  
  
The office was always stuffy and humid this time of year. The sun was beaming through the enchanted windows, hot and unyielding and Harry grumbled, tugging another button open on his shirt and leaning back in the chair. He loved his work, in fact in the last few years he had been here, he had gained immense satisfaction from helping others in this way. He wasn’t rescuing them from the flames or throwing himself in the line of fire, but he was stopping them from coming to harm in the long run.  
  
It had taken him a while to decide what to do with his life, but after Lilium began attending her primary school, he realised he couldn’t just stay home and wait for both her and Draco to come home. He wasn’t sure what had swayed him to become a Dark Artefact seeker, perhaps it was because it was safe enough for Draco not to worry himself ragged and yet dangerous enough to still excite _him_. Perhaps it was the glaringly obvious similarity to the horcrux hunt, proof that he _could_ do this job.  
  
And he could. Extraordinarily well. Well enough to have worked his way to deputy department head in just seven short years. He loved it most days, but today was different, for many reasons.  
  
Today he was stuck at his desk, with the sun tormenting him, burning the back of his neck and yet teasing him with the allure of the bright outside and the beautiful summer’s afternoon at the same time. But this report was nearly done and both of his assistants, Scarlight and Fitches were sitting at their desks, their gazes flicking up to him with every sigh of frustration that left his lips. He needed to set a good example, he supposed, and keep at it now he was so close. He’d had years of practice with little Lilium.  
  
 _Not so little anymore,_ he thought nostalgically, glancing up to the little clock on his desk. It was a miniature of the Weasley’s wall clock, (a gift from them all last Christmas) only his told him exactly where Severus, Narcissa, Draco and Lilium all were. Draco’s, he noticed was pointing to ‘travelling’. _Better get on with this,_ he thought, keeping his head down this time until he was done.  
  
“Drink, Sir?”  
  
The voice reached him just as he set the parchment aside. Harry pushed his glasses further up his nose and looked up to find the skinny, mousey-haired man that was Fitches in front of his desk.  
  
“No thank you, Fitches, I’d better send this off to the department head,” he said. “And besides, my husband should be meeting me soon.” He punctuated the statement with a little wave of his wand. The parchment he had written the report on folded itself neatly and slid itself into an envelope, which he stamped with his own seal. With another non-verbal charm, he had the letter zipping out of the door and making a beeline for the head’s office. Interdepartmental memos always were lethal when urgent.  
  
A sigh of relief left his lips and he slumped back into the chair, running his fingers back through his hair to unconsciously ruffle it. The way Draco liked. But then, he noticed the flush on his assistants’ faces and smirked. They had been assisting him for a while now and still couldn’t help but flush or shift embarrassedly at mention of his other half. People found Draco hard to get used to, he supposed. And with good reason, since it was nearly twelve years since they’d been married, and they were still all over each other.  
  
Harry smiled secretly to himself, fingering the illumiglass Draco had gifted to him all those years ago, which still hung around his neck.  
  
“Sir?”  
  
Harry’s head snapped to the side, to where Scarlight, a rounded, red-haired woman was vying for his attention. And judging by the insistence of her voice, she had been trying to gain it for some minutes now. “Sir, your…Mr Malfoy is here to see you,” she said, flushing and as she stepped aside, Harry caught sight of Draco standing in the doorway. The sight of the smirk on that face still made his heart thump madly and he got to his feet slowly.  
  
“Technically he’s Mr Potter-Malfoy, you know,” he mused, tilting his head slightly. “Draco, you already know Mrs Scarlight and Mr Fitches, of course?” Harry said, trying for nonchalant. He couldn’t help but allow some of his excitement into his voice, however, he’d been counting the minutes until he saw him all day. As he always did when Draco came to meet him from work.  
  
“Yes,” Draco said simply, smiling at them. He stepped inside the room, both hands resting casually in his pockets and strode over to his husband. He laid a solid kiss on his cheek, before moving around his man to grab his jacket, holding it out for him to slip his arms into. “Come on, we don't want to be late,” Draco said, anticipation filling his throat. He too, had been counting down the minutes.  
  
Draco's hair was extremely long now, hanging in a loose plait between his shoulders. It had grown over the years. Two strands that evaded the plait framed his face and as he leant over his husband they tickled his nose. He always made an effort to keep his hair lustrous, shining, he knew how much Harry loved it after all.  
  
After letting his colleagues off early and locking up the office, they took the floo out. Harry walked hand in hand with his husband in the familiar city air, drifting into conversation as he continued to blush. Almost as if it were a first date. He still felt like he did all those years ago.  
  
“How was your day?” Draco asked quietly, now walking the streets of London with his lover.  
  
“Slow,” Harry admitted, catching Draco’s grin at his words. Draco knew that he was more of an active person than one to sit at the desk writing reports. He always would be. “Have you ever noticed the day seems to draw on even slower if you’re waiting for something?” He asked, catching a few rogue gazes of the passers by. _This will be in the paper tomorrow_ , he thought, _much to Draco’s delight._ His husband always did love public attention.  
  
“You know I think the intensity between us makes people blush sometimes. The Department Head still doesn’t know what to say whenever he catches you having lunch with me in my office.” He laughed, remembering one particular occasion where lunch wasn’t all they’d been having, on his desk, when the Department Head had walked in…  
  
His face must have suffused with colour at the memory because Draco’s was smirking at him out of the corner of his eye.  
  
“I think it's sweet how your work colleagues get flustered over our image. I mean, I still do and I’m your husband,” Draco laughed. Harry's cheeks tinted again, but he answered with a laugh too.  
  
Harry always looked extremely dapper these days. Sharp in his style, like a real professional, an _adult_ rather than an over-grown teenager. Living with Draco after all these years had done his style the world of good. He was a classy business man, and a successful one too.  
  
 _Can you believe it,_ Draco Malfoy? _A bloody good influence?_ Draco chuckled in his head.  
  
“You’re dying to see her, aren't you?” Harry teased him. Draco's speed had picked up as they neared their destination.  
  
“I’m not _dying_ to see her,” Draco said, trying not to let on that Harry was right. “I just want to make sure she's stayed clear of all those Gryffindors.”  
  
Harry grinned devilishly. “Then it may be hard for you to hear that last week when I visited Hermione and Ron, they happened to let me know that your little slytherin angel has been throwing the house system into uproar, making friends with Hugo Weasley from Gryffindor and Luna’s daughter Poppy, a Ravenclaw girl. I’ve even heard rumours she’s been frolicking around with the Hufflepuffs.” He watched the horror dawn on Draco’s face and struggled to choke back a laugh. Draco’s slytherin-only attitude had become endearing at some point in the last 12 years. He wasn’t sure exactly when…  
  
When the initial shock wore off that their only daughter was fraternising with Hufflepuffs, he knew Draco would be pleased that Lilium was flouting system and doing as she wanted, making friends with who she wanted despite tradition. And that seemed to be everyone. Everyone loved her, or near enough, according to Severus’s feedback.  
  
“We’ll have to be careful when she is old enough to start going out with boys. The boys will flock to her.” He squeezed Draco’s hand then, a pang of nostalgia rippling through his chest. “Scary to think she’s growing up…she’s our only baby…”  
  
“She won't be going out with boys if I have anything to say about it, and as soon as she gets home, I will be reminding her of the slytherin-only policy,” Draco said with half-hearted humour. He was still a bit of a snob. Even now. But Harry knew he was only half joking. After all, he had ended up with a Gryffindor himself, and they were happier than most couples.  
  
Although Harry wasn’t sure Draco was joking about the ‘boys’ part. Draco was very over-protective.  
  
As they walked up the station to platform nine-and-three-quarters, Draco smiled, holding his breath. Little Lilium had grown so much and every year she was getting older and older. She wouldn’t be a child at all soon. It was terrifying. Draco took hold of his husbands hand tightly. Even though they had been here before, of course, he couldn't help but feel anxious as they waited for the train to pull into the station. They could hear it in the distance.  
  
Harry smiled. Being anxious about things like this were the kinds of things in life you should be anxious about. They were so lucky, so grateful to have the life they had now. It was more than they had ever dared to hope for. Narcissa, the caring grandmother, who had years ago married Severus, the grandfather, though he always fought being called such. Their kitten, Spinks, who was getting old now, and over the years had grown into a fat moggy who lazed around the mansion all day. And then their beautiful daughter, their little light…  
  
“Here comes the train,” Draco said.  
  
Harry gripped Draco’s hand tighter. He didn’t even have to try to ignore the people that still gawped at them. Their awe would never die, it seemed. But he didn’t care. Draco was standing beside him and their daughter was coming home. Through the crowds a fair way away from them, Harry made out Weasley red-hair and Luna’s golden locks. Their children attended too, they would catch up with them later, of course, but this was a private moment with Lilium he and Draco needed. The first time she was coming home off of the Hogwarts express.  
  
Slowly, the scarlet engine drew into the station. It felt weird to be on _this_ side of it as it stopped alongside the platform. But then, the doors flew open and Harry’s stomach jerked, his cheeks hurting from smiling as students began piling off the train. Soon enough, a head of familiar, wavy-blonde locks glistened in the sun as Lilium barged through a group of sixth years and flew across the platform to meet them.  
  
Harry did not have to look at Draco to _know_ he’d be trying to keep his indifferent mask in place for the benefit of the public. Though he knew also, that it would slip like butter the second Lilium reached them. Harry bent down and snatched Lilium up off her feet, pulling her tight against him in a hug. They hadn’t seen her since the Easter holidays and they had missed her so much.  
  
“Did you have a nice first year, Lily?” Harry asked, releasing her from his bone-crushing hug only to let her wrap her little arms around Draco’s middle.  
  
“Brilliant,” she beamed, as she squeezed Draco tightly. “I missed home though. Headmistress McGonagall said I might be able to visit on some weekends sometimes.”  
  
Harry patted her head, her white-blonde hair long and hanging down her back, tied neatly with a slytherin-green bow. It went perfectly with her uniform. Harry remembered the grin of pride that had danced across Draco’s face when he discovered their daughter had been sorted into his old house. Now, however, he saw Draco’s eyes clouding with emotion now she was finally back. He thought Draco just might have missed her most of all. “We’d like that very much. Severus tells us you’ve made friends with just about everyone this year!”  
  
Lilium looked thoughtful, finally releasing Draco’s waist, albeit half-heartedly as she looked up at them both, happy to be back. “I made so many new friends! And I’ve promised to write to them all, I’ll need new quills and parchment! I can’t wait to get home and see Grandma and Spinks and Eric and–”  
  
Her eager ramblings were cut off then, by Draco, who seemed to have found his voice among his overwhelming bliss at having her back with them again.  
  
“Of course we will buy you anything you want this summer,” Draco assured her. “We’re so proud of you, Lily.”  
  
Harry tended not to spoil her so much; one for physical displays of affection rather than material, but Draco couldn't help but give in sometimes. He had a weakness for her, and he couldn't say no. Harry supposed that it was because he wanted to give her the childhood neither of them had ever had, but Draco didn't know his limits. But it was cute, above anything else, and Harry was there to make sure the balance was kept. After all, he knew first hand what bratty, spoilt kids were like. He had gone to school with a fair few of them.  
  
“You've grown so much!” Draco said, almost mournfully. Lilium flushed slightly.  
  
“I've only grown a little bit, Papa!” She insisted, always playing up to her role as ‘the baby’. Harry came to a halt then, watching her swing happily off of Draco’s arm.  
  
“What’s wrong?” Draco asked.  
  
Harry smiled pensively, taking Lilium’s other hand in his own as he met Draco’s eyes. “Wrong?” He repeated, “What could be wrong? I have everything I could ever want or need. I couldn’t be more happy.” Drawing his wand then, he waved it simply, shrinking Lilium’s school trunk (that had appeared at their side suddenly) and pocketing it easily.  
  
“Hugo said that Aunty Hermione is having _another_ baby, Papa,” Lilium said to Draco, “and that Uncle Ron has _six_ siblings.” Harry smirked as Draco nodded diligently, always giving his daughter the upmost attention. As an eleven year old, Harry had thought Draco quite selfish and arrogant. Knowing him now, better than anyone else alive, he thought, he knew that selfishness for what it truly was. Dedication to those closest to him above all else. And he was lucky enough to be one of them.  
  
Lilium squeezed Harry’s hand determinedly then, as if realising he was drifting.  
  
“Do you have a purpose with this information, Lilium?” He asked her fondly.  
  
Her pretty face twisted into a pout similar to Draco’s at his words. “Why didn’t you and Papa have more babies after me?” She asked. They had had the discussion years ago, thankfully, and Lilium knew exactly why she had two ‘daddies’. She had never asked this question before, however and Harry looked to Draco to answer it.  
  
“You are handful enough without anymore,” Draco said abruptly. Harry smiled. After all the pain and risks Harry had gone through to have Lilium, the idea of another child had never been realistic. Both only children as well, they had been unsure how Lilium would respond to having to share her attention.  
  
“But maybe, one day…who knows,” Draco added then, to Harry’s surprise. “After all, I think me and your _'mother’'_ have had enough excitement in our lifetime that another baby would be a piece of cake.” Honestly they could do whatever they wanted now; they had their future and each other. Whatever the fates decided, if he had Harry and their family, he would be happy with his lot in life.  
  
“Tell you what,” Harry began with a grin, “See how good your grades are when your report card comes and we’ll see if you deserve a brother or sister to play with.” Lilium looked thoughtful; Harry just shook his head with a small laugh, carting her towards the exit along with Draco.  
  
No sooner had the exit to the station come into view above the countless heads of people, however, than they were pounced upon by a reporter. This one was a welcome one though. Harry smiled when a bright, airy Luna swam into his vision, a quill and parchment in the hands of her bright blonde, blue-eyed daughter. She was the spitting image of Luna and dressed in Ravenclaw robes. _Hard at work for the quibbler right off the train,_ Harry thought with a grin, seeing Lilium wave happily to her friend.  
  
“Luna,” Harry said with a nod of his head. “If you’re looking for a story I’m afraid we really just want to head back–”  
  
“Oh, no,” Luna interjected dreamily. “Just a few words, Harry. A personal favour, if you will? You and Draco donated so much of your time and money into the refurbishment of Hogwarts I was just wondering how it feels to be welcoming your daughter home from a place so monumental to both of your pasts.”  
  
Harry released Lilium’s hand then in favour of wrapping one around Draco’s waist, setting the other on his daughter’s shoulder. “The past is the past,” Harry said simply. “Hogwarts was a home to us both back then, how could we not donate so that others could find a home in it too? Both good and bad things happened there, but the bad isn’t something Draco and me dwell on anymore, is it?” Harry tipped his head slightly to meet his husband’s gaze.  
  
Smiling Draco nodded in agreement. “No, we only look to the future now, with each other and of course little Lily.”  
  
Luna smiled dazedly back at them both, They really were changed people, who had come so far and through so much. Together.  
  
“But as Harry said,” Draco added, “Hogwarts was and always will be our home, no matter what’s happened, it was important to us then and still is now.” After clearing Luna up on that fact, he moved his hand around Harry's waist, the late sunset glistening over them as they gave their friend a warm smile.  
  
“I’ve been thinking of writing your story some time, you know, Harry,” Luna began dreamily. Harry gave her a shake of his head.  
  
“If ever I allow anyone to take a quill to my name, Luna, it’ll be you. Rest assured,” he promised, “For now I’m quite content with my world as it is. I don’t need everyone swarming all over it like a feature-film.”  
  
“You say such the funniest things still, Harry,” Luna replied. “Nothing ever quite makes sense.” She waited for her daughter to scribble a few words down then before she began to turn away. “We shall have to have little Lilium over for tea over the summer,” Luna said, walking away. “Poppy is quite fanatical about her.”  
  
Harry laughed again good-heartedly. Everyone was insane about Lilium; it was part of her charm. “Of course, and you must come to ours with the Weasleys as well.”  
  
Of course, as ever with Luna, he got no solid answer, and she and her daughter drifted away into the crowd.  
  
  
  
The sun beamed brightly down on them as they finally breathed in the beautiful, unpolluted air of the manor as they arrived home. The Manor had been rebuilt to its former glory of course and the maze of corridors were now Lilium and Spinks’ playground.  
  
Harry and Draco walked slowly up the sun-drenched path as Lilium bolted through the grass, the wind rippling through her hair and robes as if she were flying, right into a waiting Narcissa’s arms. Harry smiled. He never had managed to stop smiling these days, and slipped his hand into Draco’s squeezing, his fingers lovingly. “That thing you said about Hogwarts back there,” Harry said softly. “It wasn’t completely true. Hogwarts _was_ my home back then. But now…I think home isn’t a place it’s a…a feeling. Something you feel when you’re with the people you love.”  
  
Draco met his husband’s dazzling green eyes. “You know, for many years Hogwarts was my sanctuary to. I might not have shown it often but it was my escape from everything I suffered at home. I acted out and I was a complete brat, but it was because I felt comfortable enough there to do so. But you’re right, Hogwarts was never our _home_ , the Manor will never be our home. Until I met you, I never had one…”  
  
Draco didn't usually like to speak much of things like this, but on the odd occasion, his words just flew from his heart, and he’d say just what needed to be said. He wasn't that little boy anymore. He had learnt what it was to be a man, to speak when he needed to about his feelings, his fears. He had learnt how to be happy, to treasure the people in his life, the ones who made their house a home.  
  
And anyone, _everyone_ could have this, he knew that now. He’d never thought he would even _touch_ this kind of contentment, but he had.  
  
He knew now that it didn’t matter what happened in your past or what may or may not happen in your future, as long as you have people who care for you. As long as you have a goal in life, something to strive for, you can withstand anything, and you will be alright in the end. You will survive the storm. Draco knew that better than anyone now. No matter what happened now, he felt like he could make it through any trial.  
  
Pausing mid-step, Harry turned and wrapped his arms around Draco’s neck. He tucked a rogue strand of gold behind a pale ear, staring into those eyes. “I belong with you. You’re my home. If we live in a rundown shack in the slums or a mansion the size of Buckingham palace, I’ll always be home if I’m with you.”  
  
He watched Draco’s smile and drank his warmth in, his happiness. And his words meant more than they first suggested. No matter what happened, they would always be together, always have a home in each other and their odd little family. He hadn’t known this kind of completion could have existed before he had tasted it for himself, but it felt like it didn’t matter what happened next, because it couldn’t hurt him. Not with Draco’s lips fixed firmly against his in a kiss.  
  
Finally, he had found where he belonged. Where they both belonged. Together.  
  
  
 _The End._


End file.
